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Patsy Carroll 

at 

Wilderness Lodge 


By 

Grace Gordon 

Illustrated by 

R . Emmet Owen 






New York 

Cupples & Leon Company 

















V 


Copyright, 1917, by 
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY 


APR -4 191? 


h 


©CI.A457784 





CONTENTS 


-O- 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I The Great Plan. 1 

II Making the Plan Come True. 9 

III The Beautiful Land of Adventure. . 26 

IV The Fortunes of the Road. 34 

V A Friend in Need. 44 

VI An Unexpected Meeting. 52 

VII Wilderness Lodge. 67 

VIII A Disquieting Voice. 80 

IX A Pilgrimage and a Surprise. 95 

X The Man in the Panama Hat. 108 

XI What Beatrice Found. 117 

XII A Midnight Intruder. 128 

XIII A Distinguished Forester. 140 

XIV Mercutio Rises to the Occasion .... 149 

XV What Beatrice Overheard. 156 

XVI Defeat and Victory. 160 

XVII Patsy ’s Brilliant Idea. 167 


v 


















vi CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XVIII A Stanch Ally. 176 

XIX Planning the Great Adventure.... 191 

XX The Unseen Listener. 207 

XXI In Tune with the Great Outdoors.. 220 

XXII Missing, a Wayfarer. 232 

XXIII The Search. 243 

XXIV The Inheritance. 253 

XXV Patsy Posts a Guard. 282 

XXVI All on Account of Hamlet. 307 

XXVII Good-Bye to Wilderness Lodge. 322 












LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

The paper fell from her limp hands as she cried out 

(see page 242) Frontispiece 

Bee raised herself a little to get a better view.... 90 * 

\/ 

In the far corner of the room crouched a figure.... 127 

Merrifield had seized the offender in an iron grip 153 




I 



Patsy Carroll 

At Wilderness Lodge 

CHAPTER I 

THE GREAT PLAN 

“T^VO say ‘yes/ Aunt Martha! Please, 
I J please!” Patricia Carroll descended 
upon her dignified Aunt Martha, as 
she sat decorously reading in the living room, 
with the force and velocity of a young tornado. 
“Really, Patricia,” began Miss Martha Car- 

roll in an injured tone, “it seems to me-” 

“Never mind how things seem to you, Auntie,” 
interrupted Patricia, hugging her aunt with the 
enthusiasm of a delighted bear cub. “Just pause 
and meditate on how things seem to me. Be¬ 
sides, it all depends on your saying ‘yes/ Now 
wouldn’t you love to spend the summer in the 
Adirondacks? If you would, all you have to do 
1 



2 


PATSY CARROLL 


is to win Father over and make him find us a 
camp to live in. That’s what they call their 
houses up there, and-” 

“What a whirlwind you are, Patricia,” grum¬ 
bled Miss Martha as she emerged from her 
niece’s affectionate but devastating embrace. She 
made a frantic dive for her eyeglasses, which had 
followed her book to the floor. 

Patricia forestalled her. Holding firmly to her 
aunt with one hand, she bent down, collected the 
articles with one dexterous swoop and presented 
them to her slightly ruffled relative. 

“See, your majesty,” she declared with a low 
bow, “here they are, right side up with care. 
Your eyeglasses are as good as new, and if you’ll 
tell me just where you left off reading I’ll find 
your place for you—but not until you hear my 
lovely plan.” 

Miss Martha Carroll settled her eyeglasses 
firmly upon her nose and said resignedly, “Well, 
Patricia, what is this wonderful plan of yours? 
Stop wriggling and sit down in that chair if you 
expect me to listen to it.” 

“I’d rather sit on this little stool, right at your 
feet, Auntie. I can talk ever so much better,” 
returned Patricia, as she dragged the stool into 
position and seated herself. “And now for my 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


3 


splendid plan. You know Father has let me 
drive my own car for almost a year. Well, I 
want to take a long trip in it this summer, and 
right away, too. I’d like to ask Bee and Mab 
and Nell to go with me, but, of course, we 
couldn’t go unless we had some responsible per¬ 
son to take care of us.” 

“I should say not,” commented her aunt aus¬ 
terely. 

“That’s just what I’m coming to, Auntie dear. 
You are the responsible person. If you would 
agree to chaperon us. Father would let us go.” 

“What! I go on a harum-scarum trip in an 
automobile with four heedless girls? Never 1” 
Miss Martha’s lips set in a straight, disapprov¬ 
ing line. 

“Now Auntie!” Patricia sprang from her 
stool and slid a coaxing arm around her aunt’s 
neck. “You mustn’t—you can’t refuse me. It 
isn’t as though we were going into an African 
jungle. We’ll have an automobile guide book 
and only go on the most public roads. Once we 
are started it won’t take long to motor up to the 
Adirondacks. If you approve and are willing to 
go, Father will say ‘y es ’ and find us a place to 
live and everything. You never spent a summer 
in the Adirondacks. You don’t know how won- 





4 


PATSY CARROLL 


derful it is. Don’t you remember what a gorg¬ 
eous time I had with the Jamisons at their camp 
two years ago?” 

Under stress of her niece’s pleading the grim 
lines about Miss Martha’s mouth relaxed. The 
idea of spending a summer in the cool north 
woods was not unattractive. Miss Martha hated 
the heat of the city, but she hated with equal 
fervor the seaside, where the Carrolls usually 
spent their summers. Under her prim, dignified 
manner lurked a sneaking desire to explore new 
territory and to see new things. Patricia’s plan 
might bear looking into, but it would never do to 
yield too easily. 

“I remember your visit to the Jamisons,” she 
conceded. “I shall have to think the matter over 
before I make any rash promises. At dinner to¬ 
night you can talk to your father about it and if 
he is willing-” 

“Aunt Martha, you’re a darling!” cried Pa¬ 
tricia, making a fresh onslaught upon her digni¬ 
fied relative. 

“Wait, wait!” Miss Martha raised a protesting 
hand. “I haven’t agreed to go on this wild-goose 
chase yet. I merely said we would talk with your 
father about it.” 

“But it’s as good as settled when you take a 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


5 


hand,” laughed Patricia. “I’m going over to see 
Nell and Mab this minute. They’ll have to do 
some coaxing, too. The only one I’m not sure 
of is Bee. And we’ve got to have her. What 
would we do without her? Good-bye, Auntie, 
I’m off to see the girls.” 

Dropping a hasty kiss on her aunt’s forehead, 
Patricia ran out of the living room and up the 
stairs as fast as her legs would carry her. She 
was back again in a twinkling, a broad, ribbon- 
circled Panama set rakishly on her head. A fran¬ 
tic wave of her hand in her aunt’s direction, a 
slam of the front door and Patricia was running 
down the broad stone walk and across the lawn 
to the iron gate that separated the Carroll’s beau¬ 
tiful grounds from those of the Perry estate and 
the home of the two Perry girls, her sworn com¬ 
panions of many years. 

“Hoo-oo!” she trilled, as she caught sight of 
two familiar white-clad figures in a vine-covered 
pavilion at the far edge of the lawn. 

Two fresh young voices answered her call. 
Then arm in arm the white-gowned girls hur¬ 
ried across the lawn to meet her. 

“Oh, girls!” exclaimed Patricia, “I’m so glad 
I found you. I’m just bursting with news. Tell 
me, do you suppose your mother’ll let you 




6 


PATSY CARROLL 


go on an automobile trip to the Adirondacks ?” 

“Calm yourself, Patsy/’ laughed the taller of 
the two girls, her blue eyes dancing. “Why this 
sudden excitement? Are you thinking of per¬ 
sonally conducting a sight-seeing party to the 
Adirondacks? I can just see your Aunt Martha 
letting you do it.” 

“Or sitting up on the front seat of the car 
beside you,” giggled Mabel Perry, a slim, blue¬ 
eyed, golden-haired replica of her older sister 
Eleanor. 

“You don’t think I’m in earnest,” burst forth 
Patricia impatiently. “Just let me tell you that 
I am. I’ve just been interviewing Aunt Martha 
and, you may believe it or not, she didn’t say ‘no/ 
I’m to talk with Father about it at dinner to¬ 
night, and if he’s willing-” Patricia paused. 

“Then it’s little Patsy for the mountains,” sup¬ 
plemented Eleanor Perry. , 

“Yes, and Nell and Mab Perry and Bee 
Forbes, too,” added Patricia triumphantly. 
Then, in glowing, eager words, she outlined her 
plan to her friends. 

“It sounds glorious,” sighed Eleanor, “but I 
am afraid Mother won’t let us go.” 

“Nonsense!” scoffed Patricia. “She will if 
Aunt Martha heads the van. It isn’t you girls 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


7 


I’m not sure of. It’s Bee that is worrying me. 
She has to help her mother, you know, and be¬ 
sides, she’s such a proud old dear she won’t wish 
to accept even a trip from her Patsy chum. 
We’ve got to have her, too.” 

“I should say so,” chorused the sisters. 

“What is life in an automobile without Bee?” 
demanded Mab. 

“Don’t you dare say a word to your mother 
about this stunt until Father and Aunt Martha 
put their O. K. on it. Once they’ve agreed to 
things, they’ll help convince her that the welfare 
of her two illustrious daughters lies in allowing 
Miss Patricia Carroll to motor them over the 
hills and far away. We won’t tell Bee yet, 
either. Not until it’s a sure thing.” 

By this time the three girls had reached the 
pavilion. Seating themselves in characteris¬ 
tically comfortable attitudes, they began an ani¬ 
mated discussion of the greatly-to-be-hoped-for 
trip that lasted until the sun began his climb 
down the western sky for his late afternoon dis¬ 
play of gorgeous reds and yellows. 

“It’s almost six,” commented Patricia, glanc¬ 
ing at her wrist watch. “In thirty minutes more 
the Carrolls will be eating dinner and our pro¬ 
posed expedition into pastures new will either 



8 


PATSY CARROLL 


flourish or die a sudden death. I must go now, 
but I’ll run over after dinner with the news, good 
or bad. But it’s us for the road if Patsy Carroll 
has anything to say about it; and let me tell you 
right here, she’s going to have a whole lot to say.” 




CHAPTER II 


MAKING THE PLAN COME TRUE 

“ UT what makes you think that I shall 
be perfectly willing to let you start out 
on a harum-scarum adventure such as 
you propose?” questioned Mr. Carroll solemnly 
at dinner that night, as he deftly mixed the 
dressing and served the salad. 

Patricia leaned toward him, her gray eyes 
round with earnestness. “But it isn’t a harum- 
scarum adventure, Dad,” she argued. “It’s dif¬ 
ferent from just packing one’s clothes and rid¬ 
ing on a train to some resort that one doesn’t 
care anything about; but it’s a perfectly sane and 
proper plan. Aunt Martha thinks so, don’t you, 
Auntie?” 

“Really, Robert,” broke in Miss Martha, “I 
don’t suppose there would be any great amount 
of danger. Patricia understands running her 
car. I imagine the roads are good, too. Of 


10 


PATSY CARROLL 


course, I should absolutely refuse to travel at 
night. I dare say we could find plenty of good 
hotels along the way, though.” 

Patricia listened in delighted amazement. 
Aunt Martha was actually on her side, trying to 
further the great plan. She opened her lips to 
speak, then shut them tightly. Her aunt should 
have the floor. 

‘‘Do you mean to tell me, Martha, that you 
are willing to trust life and limb to four heed¬ 
less young women, who are quite likely to leap 
first and look afterward?” demanded Mr. Car- 
roll, with twinkling eyes. 

This was too much for Patricia. Springing 
from her chair, she pounced upon her father and, 
seizing him by the shoulders, began shaking him 
vigorously. “Take it back, Dad! Take it back!” 
she exclaimed between shakes. “You know per¬ 
fectly well I’m not heedless. Haven’t I driven 
my car for a year all over town and never had a 
single accident? And Mabel and Nell are as 
staid and sober as judges. And you’re forget¬ 
ting Bee! Why, Bee’s as brave as a lion. She 
isn’t afraid of anything; and, besides, she has 
loads of common sense. You said so your own- 
self. Don’t you remember?” 

“I do, indeed. I take it all back. I had no 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


ii 


idea you were such a ruffian,” laughed her 
father, winding his arm about her and drawing 
her to his side. “Now if you’ll sit down and 
finish the salad I took so much trouble to dress 
for you, we’ll discuss this weighty question of 
your fitness to personally conduct a party of 
venturesome maidens into the wilds. By the 
way,” added Mr. Carroll, “you haven’t told me 
where you are going. I suppose that has been 
decided, too.” 

Patricia slipped into her place at the table and 
regarded her father with eager eyes. 

“Yes, Dad,” she purred. “The place is de¬ 
cided. We’d love to motor to Lake Placid, away 
up in the Adirondacks, and spend at least two 
months there. But we don’t want to live in a 
hotel. We’d like one of those dandy camps that 
you read about. I don’t know whether there 
are any for rent or not, but that’s where you 
come in. You can find out for us, and if Mab 
and Nell’s mother is willing and Bee can go, 
then I can have a little house party, with Aunt 
Martha for chaperon. Of course, it will cost 
quite a lot of money, but you don’t care for that, 
do you, Dad, as long as your little girl’s happy?” 

Patricia’s last question had touched a respon¬ 
sive chord. The one glory of Robert Carroll’s 




12 


PATSY CARROLL 


life was his gray-eyed, auburn-haired daughter, 
the image of the mother who had passed away 
when Patricia was a baby, and whose place in 
her husband’s sorrowing heart had never been 
usurped. From her babyhood Patricia had been 
her father’s idol, and as she passed from little- 
girlhood to radiant young womanhood his love 
for her grew and deepened. 

Miss Martha Carroll, his only sister, who had 
made the great lonely house, home, and had cared 
for his baby daughter after her mother’s untimely 
death, was equally in Patricia’s toils. In spite 
of her dignity and air of tolerance toward her 
high-spirited niece, she adored Patricia with a 
fervor second only to that of her father. There¬ 
fore, Patricia stood every chance of winning her 
point. 

“Well, well; perhaps there is a little method 
in your madness,” conceded Mr. Carroll as his 
excited daughter finished her impassioned ap¬ 
peal. “I won’t promise anything definite yet, 
Patsy girl, but I’ll think it over and make a few 
inquiries about Lake Placid. I haven’t been up 
there in some years and I don’t know whether 
any one up there would have a camp for rent or 
not. You’re sure that no place else will do?” 
he quizzed. 





AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


13 


“No, Dad,” returned Patricia, setting her firm 
little chin, “it’s Lake Placid or nothing. We’ll 
live in a hotel if we must, but I’m perfectly sure 
you can fix things if you try real hard.” 

“Thank you,” bowed her father ironically. 
Then, turning to his sister, he asked lightly: 
“What about you, Martha? Are you heart and 
soul for Lake Placid, too?” 

“Really, Robert, now that I’m used to this idea 
of Patricia’s, it doesn’t sound so impossible. I 
rather like it. I’ve never been in the Adiron- 
dacks, and they tell me Lake Placid is a most 
delightful place to summer in. You might make 
inquiry about the camp. It would do no harm.” 

“You are perfect dears, both of you,” cried 
Patricia, “and I know you won’t mind if I don’t 
stop for dessert. You’ll excuse me, won’t you? 
I simply must tell the girls that there is hope. 
If only their mother and father are as splendid 
about it as you’ve been, we’ll soon start for the 
mountains:” 

“Run along,” laughed Mr. Carroll. “As for 
your dessert, the less there is for you, the more 
there is for me.” 

Dropping a light kiss on the top of her father’s 
head, Patricia danced out of the room. A second 
later the hall door closed with a resounding bang. 




14 


PATSY CARROLL 


“What a little whirlwind she is,” smiled Mr. 
Carroll. “I wonder if she can really be trusted 
to be her own chauffeur and keep herself as well 
as the rest of you out of mischief, provided I 
decide to let her have her way?” 

Miss Martha looked solemn for a second, then 
she said with a sudden air of decision: “Yes, 
Robert, I think you can trust Patricia. Remem¬ 
ber, I shall be with the girls, and then, too, 
Beatrice Forbes is a girl of rare good sense. The 
Perry girls are nice little things and not at all 
giddy or hard to manage. Besides, the prospect 
of a summer in the mountains is very pleasant. 
I am beginning to be quite enthusiastic. Only I 
should be better pleased if you could find time 
to run up there yourself and look things over. 
I haven’t much faith in agents.” 

“I’ve been thinking of doing that very thing,” 
nodded Mr. Carroll, “only don’t tell Patricia. 
Whatever I find I wish to keep as a surprise for 
her. I’ll try to take a run up there the last of 
the week, and if I can make arrangements, then 
you can go ahead and do your worst—or your 
best.” 

“It is extremely nice in you to take so much 
interest in Patricia’s plan, Robert,” approved 
his sister warmly. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


i5 


“You’d do the same, Martha. We’re both in 
Patsy’s toils. Doesn’t she always get just what 
she wants when she wants it?” 

“Yet it hasn’t spoiled her a bit,” retorted Miss 
Martha. “Patricia is sweet-tempered and wholly 
unselfish.” 

“She is like her mother.” Mr. Carroll’s eyes 
were filled with an old sorrow. He sat silent 
for a little while, then as his sister rose from the 
table, he said in his usual business-like tones, “I’ll 
leave the question of luggage, etc., to you, Mar¬ 
tha. Better make a schedule of just what you’ll 
need for the trip. I have a feeling that you are 
going to take it.” 

While her father and aunt were discussing the 
proposed trip, Patricia had raced across the lawn 
at the top of her speed. The Perrys’ gate 
slammed energetically behind her, and she ran 
madly up the drive and up the steps as though 
her life depended upon it. Feeling for the bell, 
she pushed the button, but she had not taken her 
finger off it when the door swung wide, and two 
girlish figures descended upon her and whisked 
her inside. 

“Did you ask him? What did he say? What 
does your aunt think?” were the questions that 
assailed Patricia’s ears. 




16 PATSY CARROLL 


“For goodness’ sake, tell us the worst,” pleaded 
Mabel. “We’re crazy with suspense. After you 
had gone, Patsy, Nell and I kept on talking 
about what fun a motor trip would be, and the 
more we talked the more excited we were. If 
everything is promising I wish you’d go and help 
break the news to Mother and Father. They’re 
in the living room. We’ll never have a better 
chance.” 

“Everything is lovely, so far, girls,” assured 
Patricia. “Father approves and so does Aunt 
Martha. What I’m not sure of is whether we 
can rent or lease a camp at Lake Placid. I sup¬ 
pose that the people who own camps up there 
occupy them every summer. Perhaps some of 
them live there the year round. Father is going 
to see what he can do for us. Still, that needn’t 
prevent your interviewing the powers that be. 
We are positively going somewhere in my car, so 
lead me to the living room and see what hap¬ 
pens. Here, take a wing.” Patricia gallantly 
offered an arm to each girl and the firmly linked 
trio marched through the wide, arched doorway 
into the living room, bringing up directly in 
front of Mrs. Perry’s chair. 

“Well, what is it?” she asked, smiling up at 
the three eager faces. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 17 


Mr. Perry, who had been deep in a trade paper, 
peered shrewdly over his glasses. “It’s a con¬ 
spiracy, Laura,” he warned. “Be careful what 
you promise.” 

“Of course it’s a conspiracy,” agreed Patricia, 
her eyes dancing, “a perfectly delightful one.” 
Then she plunged abruptly into the all-important 
subject. Hardly had she finished when there 
came a pleading chorus of “Can’t we go? Please 
let us,” from the excited sisters. 

“You fairly take my breath,” complained Mr. 
Perry. “How can you expect us to decide such 
a weighty matter at once?” 

“Don’t stop to decide, just say ‘yes’ this min¬ 
ute,” put in Patricia audaciously. 

“What do Mr. and Miss Carroll say?” was 
Mrs. Perry’s question. 

“Mr. and Miss Carroll are de-lighted,” in¬ 
formed Patricia with emphasis. “If Father 
can find a nice camp for us the expedition 
can go forward with a grand rush—that is 
if all the* members can make satisfactory ar¬ 
rangements with their families,” she added 
slyly. 

“Well, who knows?—perhaps they can,” tan¬ 
talized Mr. Perry. “This is all so sudden. You’ll 
have to give the committee time to take action. 




18 PATSY CARROLL 


How many noted explorers of the wilds are 
planning to go?” 

“Aunt Martha, Mabel, Nell, Bee Forbes and 
I,” announced Patricia, “and I’m going to drive 
the car. We haven’t asked Bee yet, but she’ll 
just have to go. We can’t get along without her. 
We’re going over to see her now. We hope the 
committee will take favorable action while we’re 
gone.” 

“We can go with Patsy to see Bee, can’t we. 
Mother?” asked Eleanor. 

“Yes; don’t stay long. You haven’t done your 
last hour of practice yet, and Mabel is going to 
look up some references for me for my club arti¬ 
cle.” 

“We’ll hurry back; honest Injun,” promised 
Mabel. 

With armsistill firmly linked, the trio wheeled 
and marched out of the room, all talking at once. 
Mr. and Mrs. Perry smiled at each other as the 
hall door closed and the echo of their running 
footsteps on the stone walk died away. Their 
exchange of smiles did not presage refusal. 

Within two blocks of the beautiful homes of 
the Carrolls and Perrys was the modest, two- 
story brick house in which Beatrice Forbes, the 
fourth member of the quartette of girls, lived. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


19 


Beatrice’s mother was a widow who supported 
herself and her daughter by selling millinery in 
one of the largest shops of the flourishing little 
city of Morton. Beatrice, known as Bee, to her 
intimate friends, had just been graduated from 
the Morton High School. The four chums were 
members of the same class, but, while Patricia 
Carroll and the two Perry girls looked forward 
to college in the autumn, Beatrice had taken and, 
as a result of hard study, had passed the commis¬ 
sioner’s examinations for a certificate that would 
enable her to teach in the lower grades of the 
grammar schools. She had applied for a posi¬ 
tion and only that day she had received the joy¬ 
ful news of her acceptance and assignment to the 
second grade of the Dexter School. 

It had been a happy day for Beatrice and, as 
she wiped the supper dishes that night, she put 
some of her exuberant joy into song. She had 
just finished wiping the last dish and was on the 
last line of 19—’s class song when the doorbell 
shrilled three times in quick succession. It was 
the ring affected by the chums, and hastily slid- 
ing.the dish into place on the sideboard, Beatrice 
ran to open the door. 

“How did you know that I wanted to see 
you?” she cried at sight of her friends. 




20 


PATSY CARROLL 


“We didn’t know it,” replied Patricia. “We 
came because we wanted to see you.” 

“ ‘Kind captain, I’ve important information,’ ” 
trilled Mabel, who had sung in an amateur pro¬ 
duction of “Pinafore” the week before. 

“But it’s not about the merry maiden and the 
tar,” caroled Patricia. “It’s a whole lot more 
interesting.” 

“I’ve something to tell you, too,” declared 
Beatrice. 

By this time they had trooped into the Forbes’ 
cozy sitting room, where Mrs. Forbes sat sewing. 
She was a dark-eyed, sweet-faced woman with 
brown hair that broke away from her forehead 
in little crinkles and waves. Beatrice resembled 
her strongly, although she was taller and had a 
sturdy air of independence which her mother 
lacked. While the mother’s face was beautiful, 
the daughter’s made up in strength and intelli¬ 
gence what it lacked in the way of purely femi¬ 
nine beauty. 

“Which of us is going to talk first?” queried 
Patricia impatiently after they had exchanged a 
few pleasantries with Mrs. Forbes. 

“I’ll tell my news first, because somehow I 
don’t believe it’s as important as yours—that is, 
it is more important to Mother and me than to 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


21 


any one else. I can see by the way Patsy acts 
that she has a marvelous tale to unfold.” 

“Wise Bee. I have. But let us hear your 
news first.” 

“I’m going to be a second grade teacher in the 
Dexter grammar school,” said Beatrice, her voice 
trembling a little. “I received the notice of my 
appointment to-day.” 

“How splendid!” chorused Mabel and Eleanor 
Perry. Patricia, however, looked solemn. 

“What’s the matter, Patsy? Aren’t you glad 
I received the appointment?” Beatrice’s tones 
sounded hurt and wistful. 

“Oh, Bee,” burst forth Patricia. “I can’t be 
glad. You know I want you to go to college. 
I’ve always thought we’d be freshmen together. 
If only you’d let Father lend you the money-” 

“I couldn’t do that, dear.” Bee’s voice was 
gentle, yet it rang with pride. “I—I—haven’t 
told you all our news. Mother has an invitation 
from a great-aunt, whom she never saw but once, 
to spend the summer at her farm. Poor Mother 
hasn’t had a vacation for years, so I am trying 
to coax her to go. She says she can’t, but I know 
I can get a position in Winton’s drugstore at the 
magazine and stationery counter. Mr. Winton 
offered it to me last week. He will give me six 





22 


PATSY CARROLL 


dollars a week and I can get along nicely on that. 
You see, we own our house, so I don’t have to 
pay rent. Now, don’t you think I’m lucky?” 

During Beatrice’s recital the three girls had 
exchanged numerous significant glances. When 
she ceased speaking there was an instant’s silence, 
then, ignoring her question, Patricia spoke in 
tones vibrant with excitement: 

“After what you’ve just told m£, Bee Forbes, 
I really and truly believe in Fate. That invita¬ 
tion your great-aunt sent your mother is sheer 
Providence. But I can’t imagine you working 
in Winton’s drugstore. I imagine I see you sit¬ 
ting on the front seat of a big dark blue automo¬ 
bile with the chauffeur. The chauffeur has gray 
eyes and auburn hair—some people are rude 
enough to call it red—and on the back seat 


“Patsy, have you suddenly gone crazy?” ex¬ 
claimed Bee. “I don’t understand-” 

“You will in two seconds,” interrupted Pa¬ 
tricia. “We are going to take a motor trip to 
Lake Placid—we hope it will be Lake Placid— 
away up in the Adirondack Mountains. The 
venerable Patsy Carroll is going to be the chauf¬ 
feur. Mab, Nell and you are going, and Aunt 
Martha is going to play chaperon. Everything 





AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


23 


is arranged except a mere detail like finding 
a camp. We’re not going to stop at a hotel, you 
know, provided we can rent or lease a camp for 
three months. Now, which will you choose, to 
languish in Winton’s drugstore all summer or 
enlist under the glorious banner of our expe¬ 
dition? She may go with us, mayn’t she, Mrs. 
Forbes?” Patricia turned eagerly to Beatrice’s 
mother and poured forth a more detailed account 
of the great plan. 

“I hardly know what to say,” rejoined the 
little woman, eyeing her daughter reflectively. 

“Oh, yes, I forgot,” went on Patricia. “Aunt 
Martha is going to call on you and talk the trip 
over when everything is settled, but we just had 
to come and tell Bee and you about it.” 

“I am sure the trip would do my little girl a 
world of good.” Mrs. Forbes’ eyes rested tend¬ 
erly on her daughter. “She has studied and 
worked so hard. She really needs a rest. I had 
not intended to go away, but Beatrice insists that 
I must go, and my firm have very kindly offered 
to hold my position open for me when I return 
in the fall.” 

“But, Mother, do you think I ought to give up 
my chance of work all summer?” Beatrice’s 
brown eyes were anxious. “You’ve worked so 



24 


PATSY CARROLL 


hard to keep me in school. Isn’t it right for me 
to begin to earn my own way?” 

For a moment mother and daughter forgot 
their visitors. Each thought only of the welfare 
of the other. Then Mrs. Forbes spoke. 

“Fall will be time enough for you to begin 
earning a living, dear. The summer in the moun¬ 
tains would be wonderful for you; but I cannot 
give my consent to your going yet. I must think 
it over first.” 

“Oh, dear,” was Patricia’s doleful cry, “here 
we are at a standstill again. Mr. and Mrs. Perry 
are thinking things over, too. So are Father and 
Aunt Martha. There’s one consolation: ‘great 
minds run in the same channel,’ and it will surely 
be the right channel. While we are all here let’s 
think about what we are going to call ourselves, 
if we go. Don’t forget the ‘if.’ ” 

“We could call ourselves the Motor Girls,” 
suggested Mabel. 

“That’s too matter of fact,” objected Eleanor. 

“We could call ourselves the Vagabonds. We 
are going to be something like vagabonds,” 
asserted Patricia, “only Aunt Martha wouldn’t 
like it the least little bit.” She smiled at the idea 
of referring to stately Miss Martha as a vaga¬ 
bond. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


25 


“Why couldn’t we call ourselves the Wayfar¬ 
ers?” proposed Beatrice eagerly. “There is 
something so delightful about the word ‘way¬ 
farer.’ It sounds carefree, and if we go we will 
truly be wayfarers, even if we do ride in an auto¬ 
mobile. Didn’t you say, Patsy, that we were to 
travel by day and look for shelter wherever the 
night found us?” 

“Hurrah!” cried Patricia. “Bee’s found a 
name for us already. Three cheers for the Way¬ 
farers, and the long road to the mountains!” 




CHAPTER III 


THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF ADVENTURE 

F OR the next week the Wayfarers, as they 
had decided to call themselves, lived in a 
quiver of expectation. Mrs. Forbes had 
been won over to Patricia’s plan, and Beatrice, 
after considerable hesitation and much coaxing, 
had at last consented to give up her plan of sup¬ 
porting herself through the summer to go on 
the glorious expedition. The question of suit¬ 
able clothes had been a source of worriment to 
her, and in order to make her mind easy on that 
score Patricia and the Perry girls had good- 
naturedly agreed in private to take only their 
plainest gowns. Then Patricia had called a spe¬ 
cial session ostensibly to discuss the subject of 
dress. “Our graduating gowns will do for eve¬ 
ning dresses,” she said. “We aren’t going in 
for society, but we may have to use them once 
or twice. We all ought to have plenty of middy 
26 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


27 


blouses and white linen skirts. Wash dresses are 
all right, too. One suit apiece is enough and 
two hats per girl will see us through. You can 
all do as you like about shoes, slippers, bathrobes, 
negligees, kimonos-” 

“It sounds like the elevator man in a depart¬ 
ment store,” giggled Eleanor. 

“No levity,” rebuked Patricia; “this is seri¬ 
ous business. I’m trying to be very practical, 
and at the same time please everybody. A plan 
in time saves baggage.” 

“I wasn’t sure whether my clothes were nice 
enough for the trip,” said Beatrice honestly, “but 
I think I can make it.” 

“Of course you can,” declared Patricia. “Your 
clothes always look pretty, Bee.” 

“Here we are planning for all we’re worth and 
we don’t even know whether it’s to be the Adiron- 
dacks or not. I wish your father’s agent would 
hurry up and let us know,” sighed Mabel. 

“Father will be home from Boston to-night 
and I’ll put him on the trail,” promised Patricia. 
“He’s coming home on the 7.45 train. I’ll drive 
the car down to the station to meet him and 
every one of you girls must go with me.” 

It was an eager quartette that piled out of the 
Carrolls’ motor that night and hurried across the 





28 


PATSY CARROLL 


short stretch of walk that led to the station plat¬ 
form. 

Patricia left her friends for a moment to con¬ 
sult the bulletin board of trains. “Father’s train 
is on time, girls,” she said, returning to them a 
moment later. “It’s due in five minutes. I do 
hope he saw that agent in Boston and that he’s 
found something for us.” 

“We’ll know before long,” smiled Beatrice. 

Those five minutes seemed endless to the eager 
girls. 

“Here it comes at last,” breathed Mabel thank¬ 
fully. 

The train rushed into the station with its usual 
clanging of bells and puffing of engine. The 
quartette spied Mr. Carroll a little farther down 
the platform at precisely the same instant and 
made a concerted rush for him, completely sur¬ 
rounding that surprised gentleman. 

“Welcome to our city!” cried Patricia, kissing 
him. “Here are four distinguished citizens come 
out to do you honor. We haven’t a brass band, 
but we’ve the automobile, and if you care to cele¬ 
brate further you might invite us into Thorn¬ 
ton’s for ice cream.” 

“I choose to celebrate. Let me be nothing if 
not amiable and agreeable.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


29 


So a little later they were seated around a 
table at Thornton’s, the girls with anxious eyes 
fastened on Mr. Carroll. The moment their or¬ 
der had been given Patricia hurst forth with, 
“Dad, do tell us what you found for us.” 

“Well,” began Mr. Carroll, with maddening 
slowness which Patricia suspected was assumed, 
“Mr. Allen, my agent, couldn’t make the trip 
for me, so-” 

“Oh!” came in four disappointed voices. 

“So I made the trip myself.” 

“Oh, Dad, you dear thing!” Patricia threat¬ 
ened public embrace, but managed to stay seat¬ 
ed. Her father was on the opposite side of the 
table. “Now I’m sure you have found something 
for us.” 

“Yes, I believe I have found the very thing,” 
returned her father. 

“Is it a camp?” 

“Yes, a sure-enough camp and one of the pret¬ 
tiest at Lake Placid. The owner died last spring 
and left all his property to his nephew. The 
nephew is going to Colorado for the summer, so 
he was willing to rent the camp for three months, 
or rather I made him give me a lease. I wanted 
to make everything secure for you.” 

“How perfectly lovely!” sighed Patricia. “I 





30 


PATSY CARROLL 


feel like lifting up my voice in howls of joy. The 
minute we reach the Carroll precincts we must 
give three loud cheers for Father. I know just 
how everybody felt when the Liberty Bell was 
first rung, only I feel more so.” 

The three other girls expressed their delight 
almost as volubly as Patricia. Mr. Carroll was 
besieged with anxious questions, and it took a 
second round of ice cream to answer them all. 
When at last they rose to go Patricia said coax- 
ingly: “Do let us start soon, Dad. Can’t we go 
next Tuesday morning? That will give us enough 
time to get ready and still not delay us too long.” 

“Ask your Aunt Martha. I decline to com¬ 
mit myself,” evaded Mr. Carroll. “What she 
says, goes.” 

“Then we’ll invade her kingdom and make her 
uphold our cause this very night,” decreed Pa¬ 
tricia. 

“It will take at least a week to get ready,” was 
Miss Carroll’s dampening statement when the 
invasion took place half an hour later. 

“Make it three days. Three days is lots of 
time,” argued Patricia. “We’ve already decided 
about our clothes. To-morrow we’ll pack them. 
The next day we’ll go shopping for whatever we 
have to have to make life enjoyable in the moun- 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


3i 


tains. The next day we’ll gather up all the odds 
and ends of things to be done, and—oh, joy—the 
fourth day we’ll be adventurers along the broad 
highway. For goodness’ sake, girls, wish for all 
you’re worth that the next three days will just 
tear along.” 

Whether the combined wishing powers of the 
Wayfarers influenced Father Time to proceed 
at a fast rate is a leading question. It was truly 
a busy three days, filled with the pleasant hustle 
and bustle that always seems to manifest itself 
in planning for a trip out of doors. Patricia 
spent hours with the roomy dark blue automo¬ 
bile, going over it again and again, until she was 
sure that she would know exactly what to do in 
case of an emergency. She was frequently ac¬ 
companied to the garage by Beatrice, who had 
begged to be initiated into the mysteries of the 
big touring car in case her services might some 
day be required. 

Miss Martha Carroll packed her trunk and her 
niece’s with a zest that was plainly indicative of 
the spice of adventure which had crept into her 
blood, and when the fateful morning for the start 
came around she was up and stirring before five 
o’clock. 

It was precisely half-past nine o’clock when 




3 2 


PATSY CARROLL 


Mr. Carroll drove the big blue car out of the 
garage to where, at a little to one side of the 
gravel drive, the Wayfarers stood laden with 
luggage ready to take the long road to the moun¬ 
tains. 

“Hop in, Patsy,” he directed, springing to the 
ground from his seat at the steering wheel. 
“Come, Martha.” He assisted his sister into the 
tonneau of the automobile. The two Perry girls, 
after hugging and kissing their father and 
mother, climbed in beside her. Patricia took her 
place at the wheel. Beatrice followed her. She 
was to be Patricia’s right-hand man. To her had 
been intrusted the official guide to the automo¬ 
bile roads over which they were to travel. 

“Do be careful, girls,” admonished Mrs. Perry. 
She and Mr. Perry were the only other persons 
to see them off. Mrs. Forbes had already gone 
on her visit the day before, and Beatrice had 
come over bag and baggage to spend the night 
before the start with Patricia. 

“Of course we’ll be careful, Mumsie,” Eleanor 
assured her mother. Reaching forward, she 
caught her mother’s hand in hers. “Don’t you 
worry one bit about us. We’ve the safest chauf¬ 
feur in the land. She’s warranted to carry us 
over land and sea and never puncture a tire.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


33 


“Thank you for ‘them kind words/ ” laughed 
Patricia, touching her hand to her trim leather 
cap in military salute. “I’m on my honor to 
carry my crew safely after that.” 

“Really, Miss Carroll, I envy you,” said Mrs. 
Perry. “You are to have all the glory of an 
adventure, and it looks as though these young 
persons were quite capable of taking care of 
themselves and you.” 

“I guess we can trust Captain Patsy, can’t 
we?” asked her father quizzically. 

“You know you can, Dad.” Patsy’s voice 
thrilled with happiness. She gave a deep sigh of 
sheer contentment as her keen eyes traveled over 
the big car, with its load of happy girls. The 
extra tires were strapped on in place. The lug¬ 
gage had been disposed of. There was nothing 
more to be done, except to say the last good-byes 
and then speed away to the beautiful land of ad¬ 
venture. 

“All aboard. Captain,” sang out Mr. Carroll. 

“Aye, aye, sir,” answered Patsy. Mr. Carroll 
give the starting crank a strong turn. There was 
a second’s pause, then the car slid gracefully 
down the drive. The Wayfarers were off on 
their trip at last. 




CHAPTER IV 


THE FORTUNES OF THE ROAD 

u A T last we are carefree vagabonds, stop- 
f-\ ping wherever night overtakes us,” 

^ ^ declared Patsy dramatically, as she 
urged the car to greater speed and sent it fairly 
flying over the smooth highway. It was almost 
noon, and the Wayfarers were bowling along 
toward their first stop, which was to be Albany. 

“My dear captain, night is a long way off yet,” 
reminded Beatrice. “I have a firm conviction 
that we shall see the spires of Albany by broad 
daylight.” 

“Now don’t be practical. Bee,” rebuked Pa¬ 
tricia. “You know perfectly well that imagin¬ 
ing we are unconventional wayfarers is half the 
fun.” 

“Of course it is,” agreed Bee. “Forget what 
I said about Albany. We may never see it. We 
may break down miles this side of it and-” 

34 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


35 


“Now you’re croaking,” protested Patricia, 
“and croaking isn’t allowed in this organization.” 

“What did your father say the name of our 
camp was, Patricia?” called Miss Martha from 
her position on the back seat. 

“Wilderness Lodge, Auntie,” called Patricia 
brightly. “Won’t it be splendid, though, to have 
a great big house all to ourselves?” 

“We’re the original lucky kids,” laughed Ma¬ 
bel Perry. “Your father was lucky, too, in hap¬ 
pening upon such a prize. How did he find it, 
Patsy? We were all so busy talking to him the 
night he came home that we forgot to ask him 
about that part of the story.” 

“It was like this,” related Patricia: “This 
camp belonged to a very rich old man, who died 
there last spring. He left everything he had in 
the world to his nephew. Well, the nephew ex¬ 
pected to be away all summer, so he was willing 
for us to have the house. Father made him draw 
up a lease, just to protect us in case the nephew 
changed his mind and wanted to come back be¬ 
fore we were ready to go. The place is in splen¬ 
did condition, and there is a housekeeper and 
four servants. Father says it is one of the most 
luxurious camps along the lake, and I know we’ll 
have a perfectly gorgeous time.” 



36 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Of course,” acquiesced Mabel. “Your father 
always does pick out the very nicest places and 
things for you to do, doesn’t he?” 

“He’s certainly a bully old dad,” agreed Patsy, 
slangily, turning her head in her aunt’s direction 
to see what effect her inelegant praise of her 
father had had upon that precise person. Miss 
Martha Carroll, however, was enjoying the swift 
ride through the cool morning air far too much 
to be unduly critical. Patricia’s utterance had 
passed completely over her head. 

“We’re going to pass through Tarrytown 
soon,” called Patricia; “but we won’t stop there. 
In fact, we won’t stop anywhere except for lunch¬ 
eon, for I must make Albany in good season. 
We ought to stay at least one day there. You 
know it is crowded with historic interest.” 

“I’ve forgotten my history since school closed,” 
averred Eleanor, “but never mind, lead us on to 
Albany.” 

By one o’clock in the afternoon Patsy an¬ 
nounced that they were far enough advanced on 
their journey to stop for refreshments. In a lit¬ 
tle glen, carpeted with velvety green, the auto- 
mobilists gathered hungrily about the hamper 
of good things that had been packed for them at 
Miss Martha’s direction before leaving home. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


37 


“My goodness, but I am hungry,” sighed Bea¬ 
trice. 

“I am on the verge of starvation myself,” 
nodded Patricia. “Do let’s hurry and unpack 
the eats.” Suiting the action to the word, she 
dived into the hamper and began bringing out 
quantities of sandwiches, each in its waxed paper 
wrapping. “These are chicken, and these are 
nut, and there are cheese and ham sandwiches, 
too.” There were also chicken salad, olives, salted 
peanuts, sweet pickles, cakes and fruits, and a big 
thermos bottle of coffee, not to mention several 
bottles of imported ginger ale. There was a 
tablecloth, collapsible drinking cups, and knives, 
forks and spoons in the hamper, too, so it was 
but the work of a moment to spread their lunch¬ 
eon table on the green sward and enjoy a highly 
civilized meal in the open air. 

The travelers spent an hour in the picturesque 
little glen, then started on their way once more. 

“Now we must make time,” urged Miss Mar¬ 
tha. “I’m afraid we spent more minutes than 
we should have in the glen. Don’t fail to get us 
into Albany before dark, Patricia. You know 
what you promised me. You would do no after¬ 
dark motoring. Beatrice, how far have we 
come?” 



38 


PATSY CARROLL 


Bee pored over the guide book as though her 
life depended upon her answer. Finally she was 
able to announce their rate of progress with some 
certainty, but according to her calculations they 
were still a long way from Albany. “Do you 
suppose we can really make Albany before 
dark?” she asked Patricia doubtfully. 

“Why not? What will hinder us?” Patsy’s 
tones were very positive. 

“Oh, I don’t know of anything,” returned Bee 
vaguely. “I just had a queer feeling that some¬ 
thing might happen.” 

“Then don’t have it. Forget it,” ordered 
Patsy. “There isn’t anything disastrous going 
to happen to us on a prosaic, civilized road like 
this. Just watch me; see if I don’t keep my 
word.” 

On through the open country and past sleepy 
villages rushed the big dark blue car. Bee earn¬ 
estly scanned first the road and then her guide 
book as they whirled along. It was almost five 
o’clock when Eleanor Perry, who had been keep¬ 
ing a sharp lookout along the way, called out 
from the back seat, “Say, girls, don’t you think 
this road looks awfully lonely for a public high¬ 
way? It’s getting narrower, too.” 

Patsy slowed down and peered anxiously about 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


39 


her. “It doesn’t look just like it did in the be¬ 
ginning,” she admitted. “Do you suppose we 
have taken the wrong road?” 

“I’m afraid we have,” faltered Beatrice, “and 
it’s all my fault.” 

“Nonsense!” retorted Patsy. “It’s just as 
much mine as yours. I think I know where we 
made our mistake, though. Do you remember 
that place away back where those three roads 
branched? I must have made my mistake there. 
I feel certain that this isn’t right. We’ll have to 
go back at once. Isn’t that provoking?” 

Without further words Patricia began backing 
the car until she had gained sufficient room to 
turn around. 

“Patricia, what is the matter?” questioned Miss 
Martha sharply. She had taken her gaze from 
the distant hills in time to hear her niece’s last 
remark. 

“Nothing much,” soothed Patsy. “This is the 
wrong road. We’ll be back on the right one in 
a few moments.” 

“I expected it,” declared Miss Carroll, sinking 
gloomily back into her seat. “It will be long after 
dark before we reach Albany. I knew things 
were running altogether too smoothly.” 

“We won’t be long making up our lost ground. 



40 


PATSY CARROLL 


Miss Martha,” soothed Mabel, patting Miss Car- 
roll’s plump hand. 

“That remains to be seen,” was the unbeliev¬ 
ing reply. 

Determined to speedily make up for lost time, 
Patricia set her teeth and forged valiantly ahead. 
There was the dead oak they had passed some 
time before. That meant that they were not 
more than two miles from where they had made 
the wrong turning. 

“Hurry, hurry, dear old car,” she breathed as 
she bent forward over the wheel, while the ma¬ 
chine responded to her coaxing almost as though 
it understood. Fields and trees flitted by, then 
there was an ominous j arring sound and the auto¬ 
mobile slackened its speed and gradually came to 
a standstill. 

With an angry exclamation, Patsy bounded 
out, Bee at her heels, and began a hasty examina¬ 
tion of her car. A chorus of dismayed voices rose 
from the tonneau of the automobile, and Miss 
Martha was heard to remark with the air of a 
tragedy queen, “I knew it, I knew it. I have 
had a premonition of this ever since we started.” 
Her enthusiasm had quite disappeared. “Tell 
me the worst at once, Patricia. Is it a punctured 
tire, or what?” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


4i 


“The tires are all right,” replied Patsy. “If 
they had burst, you would have heard more noise. 
I’m afraid it’s more serious. I thought I knew 
my own car; but I can’t locate the trouble. We 
are sure enough stuck and may have to depend 
on some good-natured motorist to tow us into 
Albany.” 

“Dreadful,” ejaculated Miss Carroll. “Here 
we are on a lonely road and we may have to stay 
all night.” 

“In that case, Bee and I will do guard duty 
with my revolver,” declared Patricia. 

“Humph!” sniffed Miss Carroll. “You know 
I object very much to your carrying that revol¬ 
ver about with you. It’s ridiculous. I can’t un¬ 
derstand why your father ever allowed you to 
bring it.” 

“Please don’t be cross, dear,” coaxed Patsy. 
“I am sure we shall receive help from some other 
quarter. We’ll wait a little; then if no one comes, 
Bee and I will go down the road in search of 
help. Besides, you know Father has let me shoot 
at a target for ages. He believes in a girl know¬ 
ing how to use firearms, even if she never has to 
use them.” 

“You are not to walk one step from here. If 
we must strand, we will at least strand together,” 



42 


PATSY CARROLL 


decided Miss Carroll, ignoring Patsy’s earnest ar¬ 
gument concerning the small revolver her father 
had allowed her to carry. 

Patricia stepped up on the running board and 
anxiously scanned the road. In the distance a 
black speck was seen approaching. “Oh!” she 
exclaimed, “I believe I see another car coming 
this way. It’s bound for the main road, too. Per¬ 
haps they will tow us that far. Then the rest will 
be easy.” 

As the strange motor rapidly approached, the 
Wayfarers noted that it contained but one occu¬ 
pant, the chauffeur. He was a comparatively 
young man with a thin, pointed face, and a dis¬ 
agreeable mouth. The black motoring suit and 
cap that he wore accentuated the pallor of his 
face. His eyes rested on the disabled car with 
growing disapproval, and stopping within a few 
feet of the party he called in a surly voice: “Why 
don’t you get your machine out of the way? 
You’re blocking the road so that I can’t pass.” 

“We are very sorry,” replied Patsy, trying to 
speak pleasantly in spite of her desire to answer 
sharply, “but we have had an accident and our 
car won’t budge. We thought you might be able 
to help us.” 

The surly stranger sprang from his car and 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


43 


came forward, a deep frown upon his face. 
“What seems to be the matter with it?” he 
snapped. 

“I hardly know,” answered Patsy. “I have 
never had any trouble before, and I’ve driven 
hundreds of miles.” 

“If that’s the case, you ought to be prepared 
for such emergencies,” he said sarcastically. 
“You two girls get to the back of it with me and 
push with all your might.” 

Shaking with anger. Bee and Patsy, rather 
than lose even this ungraciously proffered assist¬ 
ance, obeyed. Their automobile moved a few 
feet toward the side of the road. 

“There,” announced their helper, “I think I 
can get my car past yours now.” 

Turning on his heel he ran rapidly toward his 
machine. 

“Stop,” called Patricia. “Aren’t you going 
to help us on to the main road?” 

“What do you take me for?” came back the de¬ 
risive answer. “Why don’t you get a chauffeur? 
Then you won’t have to call upon strangers,” and 
without further words he sprang into his machine 
and drove past them and on down the road, leav¬ 
ing them to their fate. 




CHAPTER V 

A FRIEND IN NEED 

u "W "V" T ELL, of all discourtesy, that is the 
\/V/ baldest that I ever came across,” ex- 
* * claimed Patricia with flashing eyes. 
“I never dreamed any man could be so brutally 
rude.” 

“He isn’t a man,” said Beatrice wrathfully. 
“He is only a cheap imitation.” 

Mabel and Eleanor murmured indignantly, 
but Miss Carroll sat with compressed lips, for all 
the world like a stern figure of Fate. She was 
too deeply disgusted for words. 

“Turndown number one,” remarked Patsy as 
she once more surveyed the narrow white road. 
“Tell me, Sister Anne, do you see anyone?” she 
turned to Bee. 

Bee shook her head mournfully. “Narry a 
soul,” she replied. “The world has receded and 

44 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


45 


left us to get away from here the best way we 
can.” 

“I do,” squealed Mabel, rising in the seat and 
pointing in the direction the churlish motorist had 
taken. 

“That’s the wrong direction, goose,” jeered 
Eleanor. “No it isn’t, either. Someone is com¬ 
ing this way.” 

“They might help us, too,” averred Mabel 
stoutly. 

“Considering our last encounter, Mabel, I am 
surprised that your faith in human nature is not 
completely shattered,” laughed Patsy. 

“This time they advance in couples,” remarked 
Bee. “It is a lover and his lass; therefore, they 
will not clamor to turn their ride into a towing 
party.” 

“Hello!” cheerily called a voice, and bringing 
his car to a stop, the young man sprang out and 
hurried toward them. “Can I be of any assist¬ 
ance to you?” he asked pleasantly, raising his cap. 
“Just let me try.” 

The stranded motorists exchanged glances. 

An instant later the young man had begun an 
energetic search for the trouble. “It’s the car¬ 
buretor, I think,” he said, after a few moments; 
“but I can’t be certain. Tell you what I’ll do: 



4 6 


PATSY CARROLL 


I’ll take you down to the main road. There’s a 
man lives near where the highway joins this road 
who will fix things up for you.” 

"But that will be putting you to a great deal 
of trouble,” demurred Patsy. 

“Not at all,” was the hearty answer. “That’s 
what we are all here for, to help one another.” 

Striding back to his own machine, he said a 
few words to his companion, a very pretty young 
woman, who nodded understandingly. Then in 
a twinkling he had backed his car, turned and 
made ready to tow their poor disabled car to the 
hospital. 

It was a matter of minutes only until the high¬ 
way was reached, and soon after their helper 
drove into the sideyard of a pretty residence and 
straight back to a good-sized workshop that bore 
over it the comforting sign: “Automobile Re¬ 
pairs.” 

“Here’s a job for you, John,” called the young 
man. “Don’t lose any time, for I rather think 
these ladies would like to be on their way.” 

“Right away, Mr. Edmunds,” said the man 
respectfully. 

“How can I ever thank you?” declared Pa¬ 
tricia. “You have gone very far out of your way 
to help us.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


47 


“Wouldn’t you have done as much for anyone 
you found in that plight?” demanded the young 
man, his brown eyes twinkling. 

“Of course,” said Patsy, “but-” 

“Then, you see, I did nothing remarkable.” 

“Please accept our sincere gratitude,” suddenly 
said Miss Martha in her silkiest voice. She had 
decided that this young man was really worthy 
of even her superior notice. “May I ask to whom 
we are indebted?” 

“My name is Barry Edmunds,” he replied, 
“and you are quite welcome. Allow me to intro¬ 
duce Miss Vane.” The young woman indicated 
bowed pleasantly to Miss Carroll and the Way¬ 
farers, who smilingly acknowledged the introduc¬ 
tion. 

“I am Miss Carroll,” returned the older 
woman, “and this is my niece, Patricia Carroll, 
and her friends, Miss Forbes, Miss Perry and 
Miss Mabel Perry. My niece is her own chauf¬ 
feur, and it is not often that she is obliged to ask 
for help. She and I are really seasoned auto¬ 
mobile travelers and, aside from an occasional 
bursted tire, this is our first accident.” 

“Accidents will happen to the best regulated 
organizations,” smiled the young man. “I am 
very glad to have been of service to you. Mr. 




48 


PATSY CARROLL 


Stone here will straighten out the trouble in a 
twinkling. As Miss Vane and I have an engage¬ 
ment, we will say good-bye with the hope of again 
seeing you at some future time.” 

“Good-bye,” chorused the Wayfarers. “Thank 
you again,” called Patricia, as their new acquaint¬ 
ance skilfully turned his car about and prepared 
to drive out of the yard. Raising his cap, both 
he and his companion nodded a cordial farewell, 
then their car glided swiftly down the drive and 
they were soon lost to view. 

“A very well-bred young man,” approved Miss 
Carroll. “The young woman, too, created a dis¬ 
tinctly favorable impression with me.” 

“He seems awfully jolly and nice,” agreed Bee. 
“Quite different from the man we first met.” 

“Don’t mention that man,” cried Patsy. “I 
feel perfectly furious every time I think of him. 
Positively, I’d lovingly nurse a spirit of black re¬ 
venge, if I thought I’d ever see him again.” 

“ ‘Revenge is sweet,’ ” exclaimed Mabel in 
melodramatic tones. 

“It would be in this instance,” retorted Patsy. 
“I hope he has stranded somewhere along the 
road by this time.” 

In the meantime, the workman had been labor¬ 
ing diligently with the recalcitrant automobile, 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


49 


and finally rose from his task, dusty and tri¬ 
umphant. 

"It’s all right now,” he announced. “You ain’t 
likely to have no more trouble with it.” 

Thankfully, the now tired travelers climbed in, 
Patricia pausing only long enough to pay the 
workman, adding a word of thanks for his ex¬ 
pedition. With voluble puffs of relief and satis¬ 
faction, the car responded to Patsy’s touch, and 
the party rolled into Albany just at dusk with¬ 
out further mishap. 

Once established in the apartments engaged 
by telegram by Mr. Carroll in the first hotel of 
the capital city, Miss Martha thawed visibly. A 
bath and an especially good dinner had done 
wonders toward restoring her equanimity, and 
she evinced considerable interest in the program 
Patricia was laying out for the next day. 

“We must certainly take a peep at the capi- 
tol,” declared Patsy, looking up from the open 
guide book in her hand. “This book says it is one 
of the most costly buildings in the world. Then 
there’s the city hall. We don’t care so much 
about that. The historical and art gallery sounds 
well. Albany is the next oldest settlement to 
Jamestown, of the thirteen original states, and 
was founded in 1614 by the Dutch. So I should 



50 


PATSY CARROLL 


imagine the historical things might be worth 
while. I’d love to see them. 

“If we get our sight-seeing done by three 
o’clock, what do you say to going to Saratoga 
Springs and spending the night there? It’s only 
thirty-nine miles from here, and we can easily 
reach there before dinner,” Patricia continued. 

“Fine!” exclaimed Mabel. “Let us by all 
means be fashionable, and do society at a water¬ 
ing place.” 

“In automobile coats, caps and veils?” inquired 
Eleanor, laughing. 

“I spent the summer at Saratoga three years 
ago,” remarked Miss Carroll promptly, “and I 
must say that I felt greatly benefited from drink¬ 
ing the mineral water there. Yes, by all means 
let us go on to Saratoga.” 

“Then that’s settled,” said Patsy, with a side¬ 
long glance at Bee that meant, “You see, every¬ 
thing is lovely again.” 

“I don’t know how the rest of you feel, but 
I’m getting awfully sleepy,” yawned Mabel. 
“Those in favor of bed, please say ‘aye.’ ” 

“I thought so,” she laughed as three emphatic 
“ayes” assaulted her ears. 

“Yes, girls,” broke in Miss Martha firmly, “I 
insist on your getting to bed early. For my part. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


I’m tired out. Riding all day has made me very 
sleepy. Besides, we shall have to be up and do¬ 
ing early to-morrow morning if you expect to 
make the round of Albany and reach Saratoga in 
good season. I am really quite anxious to stop 
there.” 

“Have you noticed anything different about 
Aunt Martha since we started?” asked Patricia 
mischievously. She and Beatrice, who had elected 
to room together, were preparing for bed. 

“Why, no.” Bee looked thoughtful. “But, 
you see, I really don’t know her so very well.” 

“I’ll tell you a secret.” Patsy’s eyes danced. 
“She’s the most enthusiastic of the Wayfarers. 
I can see it in her eye. I believe she actually en¬ 
joyed being stuck to-day, although she pretended 
she was shocked. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised 
to see her reading ‘Treasure Island’ and Jules 
Verne’s books when we go home, for, take it from 
me. Aunt Martha’s just full of the spirit of ad¬ 
venture even if she does try to hide it.” 




CHAPTER VI 


AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 

HE following morning, the Wayfarers 



sallied forth from their hotel before nine 


o’clock, bent on sight-seeing. Their first 
visit was to the capitol, in which they spent con¬ 
siderable time, keenly appreciative of its magnifi¬ 
cence. The historical and art gallery, however, 
held greater attraction for them, and as they wan¬ 
dered about Patsy read aloud numerous extracts 
from her guide book, concerning the early his¬ 
tory of Albany. 

“Good gracious, Patsy,” exclaimed Beatrice, 
as they stood grouped about a painting that had 
evoked their unanimous admiration. “It is al¬ 
most twelve o’clock. You know we spoke of go¬ 
ing over to the other side of the river to see Fort 
Cralo, the old place where ‘ Yankee Doodle’ was 
written.” 

“I’m afraid we won’t have time now. I had no 


52 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


53 


idea it was so late,” returned Patricia regret¬ 
fully. “I’ve been so interested here that I’m lit¬ 
erally stuffed with history.” 

“We had better go back to the hotel at once,” 
decided Miss Martha. “By the time we have had 
our luncheon it will be late enough to think about 
starting for the Springs.” 

“I’d like to come here every day for a week,” 
sighed Beatrice. “I loved history in school. It 
was always a pleasure instead of a task.” 

“I never could remember dates,” said Eleanor. 
“If asked when a certain battle was fought I was 
quite likely to put it half a century before or after 
it happened. I don’t see how I ever passed the 
final examination.” 

A few moments later the sight-seers reluct¬ 
antly left the art gallery, and climbing into their 
car, Patricia drove back to the hotel. At half¬ 
past one that afternoon the Wayfarers took the 
road to Saratoga, and it was still broad daylight 
when their car, under Patsy’s skilful hands, 
threaded its way among the throngs of automo¬ 
biles and handsome carriages, drawn by spirited 
horses, that lined Broadway, Saratoga’s most 
beautiful boulevard. 

Miss Carroll had already expressed her deter¬ 
mination to take her charges to the hotel where 



54 


PATSY CARROLL 


she had stayed during her previous visit to the 
Springs. As it was one of the largest in Sara¬ 
toga, the four girls were highly delighted at the 
prospect ahead of them. Directed by her aunt, 
who felt secretly proud of being able to tell her 
niece the exact location of the hotel, Patricia 
steered her car in and out of the interminable pro¬ 
cession of vehicles and drew up in front of an im¬ 
posing edifice standing in the midst of stately 
trees. 

“What a beautiful place,” breathed Beatrice. 

“Yes, isn’t it?” agreed Patsy. “Hop out, fel¬ 
low-travelers, and we shall see ‘wot cheer’ awaits 
us.” 

Once in their rooms, a great unpacking of suit¬ 
cases began. Each member of the party carried 
one summer gown suitable for evening wear, as 
they had expected at least one stopover at a sum¬ 
mer hotel. Summoning a maid, Miss Martha 
sent the gowns away with her to be pressed. By 
the time they returned the girls were ready for 
them, and a general friendly buttoning match en¬ 
sued. 

Beatrice had put on her graduating gown of 
sheer white organdie, daintily trimmed with nar¬ 
row Valenciennes lace. It was the most expensive 
frock she had ever owned and every stitch in it 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


55 


had been taken by her clever, patient fingers. 
Patsy wore a smart little frock of cream-colored 
China silk, the skirt and Russian blouse laid in 
narrow pleats. Eleanor Perry’s gown was of 
white Georgette crepe, hand-embroidered, while 
Mabel’s gown of pale blue embroidered muslin 
made her large eyes look bluer than ever. Miss 
Martha appeared resplendently dignified in a 
very handsome gown of black chiffon over white 
silk, which exactly suited her fine face and masses 
of snow-white hair. 

Their toilettes completed, the Wayfarers gath¬ 
ered at the open windows of Miss Martha’s room 
to watch the animated scene below them. They 
found much to exclaim over, and Patsy remarked 
almost regretfully, “Really, Auntie, if Father 
had not leased Wilderness Lodge for us, I should 
be almost tempted to say, ‘Let us stay here for 
the summer.’ I had no idea Saratoga was so 
beautiful. I’ve been so busy reading what the 
guide book has to offer about the Adirondacks 
that I never even looked up Saratoga. Wait a 
minute before we go down to dinner. I would 
like to consult the oracle.” 

She flitted through the open doorway of her 
room, which communicated with her aunt’s, re¬ 
turning a moment later with the invaluable guide 




56 


PATSY CARROLL 


book which had been in constant use since the 
beginning of their travels. 

“Ladies and fellow Wayfarers, attention!” she 
commanded, assuming the attitude of a famous 
lecturer she had once seen and heard lecture. “I 
will now enlighten you on the subject of Sara¬ 
toga. Ahem!” Patsy giggled, cleared her throat 
with exaggerated pomposity, then read several 
interesting paragraphs concerning the beautiful 
health resort, while her little audience listened in 
appreciative silence. 

“Thanks to our faithful guide book I know a 
whole lot more about Saratoga than I did five 
minutes ago,” laughed Mabel Perry, when Pa¬ 
tricia had finished reading. 

“I have always thought of Saratoga as a fash¬ 
ionable watering place and consequently it never 
interested me very much,” confessed Beatrice. 
“I never dreamed it had all these wonderful old 
trees and was such a beautiful place. And then 
to think that George Washington and Sir Wil¬ 
liam Johnston and Alexander Hamilton visited 
Saratoga Springs and drank its water! 
That is something interesting to remember, isn’t 
it?” 

“This guide book says that Saratoga Lake was 
named ‘Saraghoga’ by the Indians,” related 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


57 


Patsy. “It means, ‘The Place of Herrings.’ 
They named it so because large schools of her¬ 
rings came up the Hudson River and into this 
lake. But other persons who are supposed to be 
authorities on the subject insist that the name is 
‘Saradaga,’ and that means ‘Saline Water.’ So 
you may take your choice.” 

“I don’t think either of them is particularly 
beautiful,” commented Eleanor stolidly. “I’d 
rather call it Saratoga. It really ought to be 
named the Place of Trees. That is ever so much 
prettier and more suitable. Of the two evils I’d 
rather have it salty water than herrings. I’d far 
rather have my dinner, though. I am hungry 
as a hunter. If you have finished your lecture 
on Saratoga, my dear Patsy, I propose we make 
a grand rush for the dining room.” 

“It is quite evident that my efforts to enlighten 
and instruct have failed so far as some persons 
I know, whose names I refrain from mentioning, 
are concerned,” rebuked Patsy, fixing accusing 
eyes on the hungry Eleanor. 

“We may become more appreciative—after 
we’ve been fed,” retorted Eleanor, apparently 
unabashed at this thrust. 

“All right, Nellie, I forgive you for scorning 
me,” laughed Patsy, “and as a proof of my for- 




58 


PATSY CARROLL 


giveness I’ll lead you to the dining room, that is 
if I can find the way there.” 

She bowed and offered her arm to Eleanor, 
who accepted it with a giggle and they swept out 
of the room together with great ceremony. Miss 
Martha, Beatrice and Mabel followed them. 

“Suppose we walk down the stairs,” proposed 
Patsy. “We are on the second floor, you know. 
There is the staircase, straight ahead. If we lead, 
the others will follow.” 

The four girls and Miss Martha formed a most 
attractive picture as they walked into the dining 
room and to their seats at the table assigned them 
by the head waiter. 

“It really seems good to put on folderols and 
fluffy things after life on the road, doesn’t it?” 
remarked Mabel to Bee after they were seated 
at their table. 

“One feels so nice and fresh,” replied Bee. 
“The man who said ‘variety is the spice of life’ 
knew what he was talking about. We love the 
road, but we do incline toward little innovations 
like this to keep us up to the mark.” 

Just then Eleanor, who had been looking im¬ 
personally about her at the various diners, leaned 
forward and said excitedly, “Look, girls, there is 
the young man who helped us yesterday.” 





AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


59 


“Where! Where! Where!” exclaimed the 
three girls in concert. 

“The fifth table beyond us. He is with three 
other persons.” 

The girls glanced simultaneously toward the 
table indicated by Eleanor, and saw their rescuer 
of the previous day, looking very distinguished 
in his evening clothes. He was talking animat¬ 
edly to a rather attractive middle-aged woman 
beside him, while the two other persons, an el¬ 
derly man with a forbidding face, and a fair¬ 
haired girl whose back was toward the Wayfar¬ 
ers, appeared to listen with casual interest. 

“ ‘It’s himself and no other,’ as our cook would 
say,” declared Patricia. “That woman and man 
must be his mother and father. There’s really a 
family resemblance. As for the young woman, 
I can’t trace family resemblance from a person’s 
back.” 

“It’s not the girl he was with yesterday, at any 
rate,” averred Bee. 

“Oh, he sees us,” said Mabel delightedly, with 
a friendly little nod. The others followed her 
example, and Miss Carroll, too, graciously in¬ 
clined her head. 

Their new acquaintance returned their bows 
in well-bred, friendly fashion, and the older man 



6o 


PATSY CARROLL 


and woman glanced quickly in their direction, 
but the girl did not change her position. 

Dinner over, the five women strolled along the 
broad veranda, seating themselves at one end, 
where they could view the passing throng. 

“There is a hop here to-night,” announced 
Mabel. “The clerk told me so. I should love 
to have one dance.” 

“You might as well ask for the moon,” re¬ 
turned Bee. “We don’t know a solitary man 
here.” 

“Except our Mr. Edmunds,” reminded Elea¬ 
nor. 

“Yes,” returned Bee, “but ‘our’ Mr. Edmunds 
seems to be reposing in the bosom of his family. 
He is out of the question for us, I’m afraid.” 

“Can’t we go to the ballroom and look on for 
a while?” suggested Mabel. “We can listen to 
the music, even if we don’t know anyone to dance 
with.” 

“To be sure; that is, if Aunt Martha is will¬ 
ing,” returned Patricia. 

“I have no objection,” said Miss Carroll good- 
naturedly. “Lead the way, Patricia. We might 
as well watch the dancing for a little while.” 

Ten minutes later the party was seated in the 
pretty balcony above the ballroom, looking down 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


61 


at the dancers. A symphony orchestra was play¬ 
ing Strauss’ “Life in Vienna,” and four pairs of 
young feet unconsciously kept time to the 
music. 

“Oh, for a partner,” sighed Bee. “That music 
is so inspiring!” 

“I wonder if I could persuade one of you 
young ladies to dance with me,” said a deep 
voice, and Barry Edmunds stood bowing before 
them. 

“Persuade us!” exclaimed Patricia. “We are 
simply wild to dance.” She stopped, and colored 
slightly at her own frankness. 

“My niece says exactly what she means,” 
smiled Miss Carroll. “Extreme frankness is one 
of her cardinal virtues.” 

“I am a personal admirer of frankness,” re¬ 
plied the young man with an answering smile; 
then he continued, “Miss Carroll, my mother, 
father and sister would be pleased to meet you 
and the young ladies. I have been telling them 
of you.” 

“We should be charmed,” responded Miss 
Carroll, graciously, greatly to Patricia’s secret 
delight. Her aunt was usually slow to meet 
strangers. 

Ten minutes later Patsy was gliding grace- 



6 2 


PATSY CARROLL 


fully over the ballroom floor with Barry Ed¬ 
munds to the strains of a one-step, while Miss 
Carroll and the remainder of her charges were 
engaged in impersonal conversation with the Ed¬ 
munds. 

“We had a glorious dance,” glowed Patricia, 
as she and her partner returned to where her 
friends sat. 

“I know several men here to-night, who would 
appreciate the pleasure of a dance with your 
charges. Miss Carroll,” Barry Edmunds pro¬ 
posed. “Have I your permission to present 
them?” 

“Certainly, Mr. Edmunds,” was the instant 
reply. “We shall enjoy meeting any of your 
friends.” 

So the young man’s friends were duly pre¬ 
sented, and the four girls danced to their hearts’ 
content, while Miss Martha conscientiously tried 
hard to interest herself in the family of the genial 
young man as a slight return for his courtesy to¬ 
ward her little flock. She found the Edmunds 
cold and self-centered, and she shrewdly sus¬ 
pected them of wholesale snobbishness. She de¬ 
cided that she positively disliked Imogen, the 
daughter, who had coldly refused her brother’s 
invitations to dance, and had met the friendly 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


63 


overtures of her girls almost with bored indiffer¬ 
ence. 

“Do you like Saratoga, Miss Carroll, and shall 
you remain here during the summer?” inquired 
Mrs. Edmunds languidly. 

“This is merely a stop-over for us,” replied 
Miss Martha. “We are headed for Lake Placid, 
in the Adirondacks. We have taken a camp 
there for the summer.” 

“How delightful,” drawled Mrs. Edmunds. 
“We have a summer home there. May I ask the 
name of your camp ?” 

“Wilderness Lodge,” replied Miss Carroll. 

“What!” sharply ejaculated Mr. Edmunds. 
“Wilderness Lodge is not for rent.” 

“Nevertheless, we hold a lease that proclaims 
us sole tenants for the next three months,” re¬ 
turned Miss Carroll with dignity. She did not 
enjoy being contradicted. 

“I must look into this at once,” snapped Mr. 
Edmunds. “Your pardon. Miss Carroll, but 
your statement astonished me. I know the owner 
of the property very well. I was his deceased 
uncle’s legal adviser, and am now his. He is also 
a personal friend of mine. I cannot understand 
why he rented the Lodge.” 

“Is there any good reason why we should not 




64 


PATSY CARROLL 


lease Wilderness Lodge?” asked Miss Martha 
evenly. 

“Oh, certainly not; certainly not,” was the al¬ 
most brusque answer. “It is Mr. Grandin's own 
affair.” 

It was a matter of distinct relief to Miss Mar¬ 
tha, when a little later her girls, accompanied by 
Barry Edmunds, returned with the announce¬ 
ment that they were ready to go. 

“We’ve had a splendid time,” declared Pa¬ 
tricia with sparkling eyes, “but we can’t dance 
all night and ride all day. The road for ours 
early in the morning.” 

As the party were exchanging good nights 
Mabel innocently remarked in her clear, high 
treble, “I am so glad to have seen you again, Mr. 
Edmunds. I wish Miss Vane had been with you 
to-night, too. We liked her so much, although 
we only saw her yesterday.” 

A bombshell exploded in their midst could 
hardly have created greater Eavoc in the Ed¬ 
munds family than did her polite little speech. 
Mrs. Edmunds looked at her son in anger and 
amazement, while Imogen smiled a hateful, 
sneering smile. Barry Edmunds turned slightly 
pale and his mouth set in stern lines, as he un¬ 
flinchingly met his father’s furious eyes. Not a 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


65 


word was spoken, yet the Wayfarers knew that 
Mabel had unwittingly precipitated a domestic 
storm upon the young man’s head. 

There was an ominous silence. Then Miss 
Carroll smiled cordially at Barry Edmunds and 
said: “Thank you, Mr. Edmunds, for having 
given us a pleasant evening.” She bowed rather 
formally to his family, who coldly returned her 
bow, and the party separated, with profound re¬ 
lief on at least one side. 

“Well, of all disagreeable people, commend 
me to those Edmunds,” declared Patsy, once they 
were safely in their own suite. 

“The son is a dear, but the daughter is hor¬ 
rid,” said Beatrice. “What on earth ailed them 
all? Did you see how they froze up and looked 
daggers at the poor young man when Mabel 
mentioned Miss Vane?” 

“I feel dreadfully about it,” faltered Mabel, 
her lip quivering. “He was so nice to us, too. 
I never dreamed of saying the wrong thing.” 

“Never mind. Queen Mat,” soothed Eleanor. 
“His shoulders surely look broad enough to 
weather family storms. You can’t very well 
apologize to him without embarrassment on both 
sides.” 

“I wonder why the bare mention of Miss 




66 


PATSY CARROLL 


Vane’s name should set them all by the ears,” re¬ 
flected Patricia. 

“Of course you do, Patricia,” interposed Miss 
Carroll, firmly. “I dare say, finding out all the 
whys and wherefores would be very exciting, but 
for the general welfare of this organization I 
must insist that you keep your fingers out of the 
Edmunds’ pies. Once you try to unravel the 
mystery we shall be turned into a hand of sleuths, 
rather than a mild vacation party. Therefore, 
I warn you; let the Edmunds’ problem stay un¬ 
solved as far as you are concerned.” 




CHAPTER VII 


WILDERNESS LODGE 

“T T URRAH!” cried Beatrice Forbes, 
I I turning around from her position in 
-*■ the front seat of the automobile to 
face Miss Martha, Eleanor and Mabel. “We’re 
almost there!” 

“How can you tell that?” challenged Mabel. 

“By the signs of the times and this route 
book,” returned Beatrice, waving in the air the 
small book that she had been studying so assid¬ 
uously for the last few days. 

The Wayfarers had left Saratoga before nine 
o’clock the morning following the hop, having 
chosen Schroon Lake as their next stop. Here 
they had stopped just long enough for luncheon, 
determined to make Lake Placid by nightfall. 

“Receive the congratulations of your admiring 
colleagues, Patsy,” laughed Eleanor. “It’s a 
quarter to six, and you’ve made good your word.” 

67 


68 


PATSY CARROLL 


“We shall soon be in the village of Lake 
Placid,” announced Bee. “Once there we can 
inquire the way to Wilderness Lodge.” 

“I wonder if we shall like the Adirondacks as 
much as we’ve dreamed we would,” remarked 
Mabel as they sped along. 

“Of course,” replied Eleanor. “Only we shall 
be ever so much more civilized at Lake Placid 
than if we were really camping. People up here 
call their places ‘camps,’ but, as I understand it, 
these so-called camps are the height of luxury 
and ultra-civilization.” 

“Still, all around these camps there is plenty 
of wilderness,” interposed Patsy, who, busy with 
her car, had thus far taken no part in the conver¬ 
sation. “Why, a little more than half a century 
ago these woods were full of bears, panthers and 
wolves, with no end of smaller wild animals. The 
only people who lived up here were hunters and 
trappers. Then a man by the name of Adiron¬ 
dack Murray saw the possibilities of this region 
and called people’s attention to it, and the tide 
of civilization began to pour in here.” 

“Where on earth did you get so much infor¬ 
mation?” laughed Bee. 

“I’ve been reading up on it, of course,” an¬ 
swered Patricia. “The day before we left home 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


69 


I made it a point to go to the public library, and 
found out a lot of things about the Adiron- 
dacks.” 

“Tell us some more about them,” begged 
Mabel. 

“Let me see,” continued Patricia reflectively. 
“One book said that nearly all the old-time guides 
and hunters had disappeared, and that the pres¬ 
ent-day guides don’t begin to know as much 
about the forests as did their fathers. Occasion¬ 
ally one runs across the genuine, old-time hun¬ 
ter, but not often. Wouldn’t it be great if we 
could find one?” 

“Perfectly splendid,” agreed Bee. “Then we 
could break a trail into the trackless forest and 
actually camp out for a few days.” 

“Don’t indulge in any such rash ideas, girls,” 
said Miss Martha severely. “I shall not tolerate 
any wild camping schemes. You will have to 
content yourselves with a legitimate camp and 
an occasional afternoon excursion into the woods. 
I shall run no risks.” 

Patsy solemnly winked at Beatrice and made 
no reply to her aunt’s discouraging announce¬ 
ment. The other girls also wisely held their 
tongues, knowing Miss Martha’s bark to be far 
worse than her bite. 



?o 


PATSY CARROLL 


It was after six o’clock when Patsy drove her 
car through the main street of the village of Lake 
Placid, a thriving little town of about twenty- 
five hundred inhabitants, situated on the western 
shore of Mirror Lake. Opposite the village, on 
the eastern shore, stood the beautiful Lake Placid 
Club, while all around them rose the wooded 
steeps of the Adirondacks. 

“No wonder Lake Placid is called the ‘Switz¬ 
erland of America,’ breathed Bee, as the full 
view of the lake, with its green dots of islands, 
burst upon them. 

Suddenly Mabel sat up very straight. “Oh, 
look!” she exclaimed. “How beautiful!” 

She had glimpsed, through the great trees sur¬ 
rounding it, one of the handsome camps for 
which Lake Placid is noted. 

“The simple life with modern improvements,” 
commented Bee. “The forest is only an accom¬ 
paniment to all this civilization.” 

“Still, those mountains over there look wild 
and rugged enough to suit me,” declared Patsy. 
“That is, if we ever get a good chance at them,” 
she added in Bee’s ear. 

“Hurrah!” cried Mabel joyfully, after a few 
moments. “According to description, that looks 
like our humble home over there now.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


71 


“You are right, Queen Mab,” returned Bee. 
“And if my fond eyes do not tell lies, there stands 
our housekeeper on the veranda.” 

Patsy, feeling sure of their destination, swung 
into the broad drive at one side of the house, and, 
bringing the car to a halt, called out gaily: “Is 
this Wilderness Lodge?” 

“It is, indeed, Miss Carroll,” replied the moth¬ 
erly looking woman on the veranda, “and I am 
Mrs. Harding, the housekeeper. I received your 
telegram this afternoon, and have been waiting 
for you.” 

“Thank you so much,” said Patsy, springing 
from the car. She was quickly followed by the 
three other girls. Then Mabel and Eleanor as¬ 
sisted Miss Martha to alight. She had insisted 
on getting out last. 

“Aunt Martha, this is Mrs. Harding,” intro¬ 
duced Patsy; “Mrs. Harding, my aunt, Miss 
Carroll.” Then Eleanor, Mabel and Beatrice 
were named in turn. 

“I will show you to your rooms at once,” said 
the housekeeper. “I think you will find every¬ 
thing in readiness for you. John will take your 
car to the garage.” 

The Wayfarers looked about them with grow¬ 
ing admiration. The house itself was a pictur- 



72 


PATSY CARROLL 


esque, two-story affair, built entirely of logs, 
the bark turned out. The broad veranda fronted 
on the lake, and with its pretty furnishings, 
looked a marvel of luxurious comfort. Just off 
the hall on one side lay the great square living- 
room, with its polished floors and beam ceiling. 
The walls were hung with green burlap and dec¬ 
orated with several pairs of handsome antlers 
and other trophies of the hunt and forest. There 
was a huge open fireplace, while the oak and 
wicker furniture seemed to have been chosen 
with an eye to absolute comfort. 

“How I shall love this room!” said Mabel, fer¬ 
vently, clasping her small hands. “There isn’t 
an uncomfortable spot in it.” 

The sleeping rooms were models of dainty lux¬ 
ury, Miss Martha’s being the most imposing of 
the three, with its adjoining bathroom done in 
green and white. The other two rooms shared 
one bath between them, and Beatrice and Pa¬ 
tricia elected to be room-mates, while Mabel 
and Eleanor roomed together. 

“Don’t stop to do any extra dressing for din¬ 
ner, my dears,” admonished Miss Martha. “It 
is almost seven o’clock now, and I am very hun¬ 
gry-” 

“We are all afflicted with the same malady, 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


73 


Auntie dear,” returned Patsy. “We’ll hurry, 
never fear.” 

The dining-room proved to be almost as large 
as the living-room, and was done in golden oak. 
It also had its big fireplace and beam ceiling, 
and so perfect were its appointments that the 
girls could not decide which one of the two rooms 
was the more beautiful. 

The dinner was excellent, and the travelers 
thoroughly enjoyed it. 

“We are well supplied with servants, at any 
rate,” Patricia remarked as the trim maid served 
the dessert and withdrew. “We have Mrs. 
Harding, a cook, two maids and a man. That 
ought to be sufficient for our simple needs.” 

“I should say so,” agreed Bee, smiling to her¬ 
self as she thought of the humble way in which 
she and her mother lived. 

“I am wild to explore this place in broad day¬ 
light,” declared Patricia with animation. “I 
caught a glimpse of a darling little boathouse, 
through the trees, and I know there are hundreds 
of new things to see.” 

“Your ambition is, indeed, praiseworthy,” 
drawled Eleanor, “but for my part, give me 
rest, sweet rest, and lots of it. I hate to admit 
it, but I am awfully tired and I am perpetually 




74 


PATSY CARROLL 


haunted by a vision of that big hammock out on 
the veranda.” 

“Suppose we celebrate taking possession of 
Wilderness Lodge by sitting quietly on the ve¬ 
randa for awhile, then go upstairs and unpack 
our things,” suggested Beatrice. “That sounds 
very tame, I know, but I am not feeling par¬ 
ticularly strenuous.” 

“I have yet to hear a more sensible remark,” 
commended Miss Martha. “Every one of you is 
to go to bed early to-night, and bedroom conver¬ 
sation, until long after midnight, is strictly pro¬ 
hibited.” 

“Then on to the veranda,” cried Patsy. “If 
we are to be ignominiously put to bed with the 
chickens, let’s ‘make the most of what we yet may 
spend.’ ” 

“I believe I neglected to remark, the other 
night, that those Edmunds have a summer home 
somewhere about Lake Placid,” said Miss Mar¬ 
tha, after they had comfortably established them¬ 
selves on the veranda. 

“What a bore,” deplored Patsy. “Mr. Barry 
Edmunds excepted. I never before disliked any¬ 
one so much on first acquaintance as that Imo¬ 
gen Edmunds.” 

“I was not impressed with the young man’s 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


75 


family,” admitted Miss Martha, with surprising 
candor. “They seemed underbred, and the father 
was unmistakably brusque when I mentioned our 
having leased this house.” 

“This is news to me,” said Patsy. “Do tell 
us about it, Auntie.” 

Miss Carroll recounted the conversation that 
had passed between herself and the elder Ed¬ 
munds while the four girls had been busy danc¬ 
ing. 

“What possible objection could he have to our 
being here?” demanded Patsy. “If the owner of 
the camp were willing for us to have it, that is all 
that is necessary, and we don’t consider it any¬ 
one else’s business.” 

“Did your father say anything about the 
owner, Patsy, either favorable or unfavorable?” 
asked Bee thoughtfully. 

“No,” replied Patricia. “I was so excited over 
our trip that I didn’t ask Father about him. At 
any rate, he’s away for the summer, so he won’t 
trouble us.” 

The conversation drifted into other channels. 
Miss Martha leaned back in her chair with closed 
eyes, the sound of the girls’ voices lulling her to 
a state of blissful drowsiness. Along the shores 
of the lake the various camp lights twinkled 



76 


PATSY CARROLL 


among the trees, while now and then a snatch of 
song was borne to their ears from some moon¬ 
light party. Beyond the lake the rounded 
summits of the forest-covered mountains loomed 
dark against the moonlit heavens. 

“How perfect it all is,” sighed Beatrice, look¬ 
ing dreamily out over the water. “It’s like an 
enchanted lake, with the white moon shining down 
on it that way.” 

“Perhaps if we watch closely we may see an 
enchanted prince rise from the depths,” said 
Mabel softly. 

“Or a bogie,” added Patsy mischievously, 
“with great, glassy, green eyes and huge, horri¬ 
ble hands and a voice like thunder, who will 
rise in a spiral pillar of swirling water like 
this.” Patsy indicated a spiral in the air, lean¬ 
ing toward Mabel, who watched her with fas¬ 
cinated eyes. Then, in a deep voice: “He’ll smite 
you—so.” She made a sudden dive at Mabel, 
who, with a little startled squeal of terror, tipped 
backward in her chair, striking with considerable 
force against the end of the hammock, where 
Eleanor peacefully reclined. The hammock 
promptly turned turtle, pitching its occupant 
unceremoniously out, while Mabel, with a des¬ 
perate effort to save herself, made a wild side- 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


11 


wise plunge in her wicker chair and landed, chair 
and all, upon her astonished and indignant 
sister. 

“Mercy on us!” ejaculated Miss Martha, wak¬ 
ing with a start. “What on earth has hap¬ 
pened?” 

Patsy and Beatrice rocked to and fro, speech¬ 
less with laughter. 

“Mabel Perry, what ails you?” demanded 
Eleanor angrily, as, ruefully rubbing a skinned 
elbow, she blinked reproachfully at her sister. 

“You can blame Patsy,” retorted Mabel 
crossly, trying to extricate herself from the rock¬ 
ers of the chair. Eleanor gave one look at Patsy, 
then joined in the general mirth. 

“Please forgive me, Mabel,” pleaded Patsy 
when she had gained control of her voice. “I 
didn’t mean to frighten you so. But you looked 

so funny—and poor Eleanor-” Patsy gurg- 

-led and choked, then went off into fits of laugh¬ 
ter. 

“It was pretty funny,” giggled Mabel, her ill- 
humor vanishing. 

“Patricia,” commanded Miss Martha. “Stop 
laughing. You will have hysterics.” 

“It’s after ten,” commented Eleanor, looking 
at her watch. “I’m going to a place where I can 



78 


PATSY CARROLL 


repose without danger to my life, limbs and the 
pursuit of happiness.” 

“Oh, look, girls,” cried Mabel. “There’s a 
light in our boathouse. That seems strange, 
doesn’t it?” 

“It must be John,” replied Patsy, yawning. 
“No one else has any right there. Come on, girl¬ 
ies all, let’s turn in. Aunt Martha,” she turned 
to her aunt with mock severity, “must I again 
remind you of the lateness of the hour?” 

“You are a very disrespectful girl,” smiled 
Miss Martha, placing her arm about her 
niece. 

“I suppose we shall be perfectly safe to sleep 
with wide-open windows up here,” remarked Bee, 
fifteen minutes later, as, turning out the light, 
she raised the blind and peered out into the night. 
“We are not very far from the ground, but no 
robber would venture near in such bright moon¬ 
light.” Reaching for a cushion from a nearby 
chair, she curled herself upon it and leaned her 
elbows on the window-sill. 

“Come to bed, Bee,” said Patsy drowsily. 

“In a minute,” returned Bee. Then something 
moving among the trees caught her eye. A dark 
figure was revealed for a moment, then was swal¬ 
lowed up in shadow. Reaching for her kimono, 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


79 


Bee wrapped it around her. Then, leaning out, 
she called softly, “Is that you, John?” 

There was no answer. Bee waited, straining 
her eyes. She looked toward the boathouse. The 
light had vanished. 

“It must have been John,” she thought. “He 
evidently did not hear me call. He has been 
down to the boathouse and has come that way to 
the house.” Satisfied with her own explanation, 
Bee rose and climbed into bed beside Patsy who 
was already fast asleep. 




CHAPTER VIII 


A DISQUIETING VOICE 

“ THAT is the pleasure of this gather- 

V/V' ing?” inquired Patsy the next morn- 
* " ing as she helped herself to more 
toast and omelet. 

The travelers, after a night’s refreshing sleep, 
were busily engaged in disposing of an excellent 
breakfast, and for a moment no one replied. 

“Don’t ask me to think of anything except 
food just now,” sighed Eleanor. “This omelet 
is too delicious for words.” 

“I agree with you,” emphasized Beatrice. 
“Therefore, we had better take it away from 
Patsy while a remnant of it lingers with us.” 

“Don’t worry, there is another in the kitchen,” 
assured Patsy. “The maid just revealed the 
knowledge of its existence to me. Knowing that 
I should be accused of the sin of greediness, I 
inquired before I ate.” 


80 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


81 


“Such consideration,” murmured Mabel. 

“So glad you recognize it. I am nothing if 
not considerate,” returned Patsy modestly. 
“However, no one has answered my question.” 

“I’d like to go canoeing,” announced Bee. 
“That’s one of the most popular amusements up 
here, and it’s great sport. I saw a whole fleet of 
canoes out on the lake this morning. The girls 
had their sleeves rolled up and were doing as 
much paddling as the boys.” 

“I am not what might be called a howling suc¬ 
cess with a paddle,” admitted Patsy. “The only 
time I ever tried canoeing was two years ago 
down at Palm Beach. I can be trusted not to 
capsize a boat, and that’s something in my favor. 
Bee is our prize canoeist. You won a race once, 
didn’t you, Bee?” 

Bee nodded, but made no comment on her 
prowess. 

“I am not inclined to favor canoeing,” depre¬ 
cated Miss Martha. “You will be sure to upset 
your canoes and be drowned.” 

“Nonsense, Auntie dear,” scoffed Patsy. “We 
shall be as careful as careful can be. You can’t 
capsize the canoe if you sit still and don’t rock 
it. Besides, we expect you to go with us.” 

“Never,” declared Miss Carroll firmly. “I 




82 


PATSY CARROLL 


have no desire to risk my life in one of those 
cockleshells.’’ 

“Come as far as the boathouse with us,” coaxed 
Patsy, rising from the table, “and perhaps you’ll 
change your mind. Come on, everyone. I must 
ask Mrs. Harding about the keys of the boat¬ 
house.” 

“Here she is now,” said Mabel, as they en¬ 
countered the housekeeper in the hall. 

“Have you the keys to the boathouse, Mrs. 
Harding?” asked Patricia. 

“No, Miss Carroll,” responded the house¬ 
keeper. “John has them. Mr. Rupert left them 
with him.” 

“Of course, I should have known that he had 
them,” replied Patsy. “I never once thought of 
John.” 

“Is Mr. Rupert the Mr. Grandin who owns 
the boathouse?” asked Beatrice. 

“Yes, miss,” answered the woman, with a 
sigh, “and a very different gentleman he is from 
the good soul his fine old uncle was. We were 
right happy here with old Mr. Wellington and 
Miss Cecil. But everything’s changed now. 
We’re all leaving in the fall, and Mr. Rupert’ll 
have to take on new people to work for him if 
he stays here.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


83 


The girls listened with interest to what the 
housekeeper was saying. 

“Is Miss Cecil Mr. Wellington’s daughter?” 
asked Mabel curiously. 

“Oh, dear no,” responded the woman. “She 
was his ward. Her father died when she was a 
baby. He was one of Mr. Wellington’s dear¬ 
est friends.” 

“And where is she now?” asked Eleanor eag¬ 
erly. 

“Girls,” sounded Miss Martha’s voice from the 
veranda. She had not waited while the girls 
questioned the housekeeper. 

“Coming,” returned Patsy promptly. She 
knew the value of keeping her aunt in a good 
humor. 

With a hasty “Please tell us more about it 
some other time, Mrs. Harding,” the party of 
girls hastened to join Miss Carroll. 

“Now for life in a birch-bark canoe,” exulted 
Patsy, as they swung down the path to the boat¬ 
house. “By the way, we haven’t seen John yet.” 

“There he is now, on the other side of the boat¬ 
house!” exclaimed Mabel, pointing. 

“John, will you open the boathouse for us?” 
called Patricia. “We want the canoes. How 
many are there?” 




84 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Three canoes and two rowboats/’ answered 
the man. “There’s a nice little launch, too.” 

“What a cunning place!” cried Mabel. “Isn’t 
it a beauty?” 

The boathouse was a little two-story building 
covered with bark, with a slanting pine platform 
for the canoes and rowboats. 

The four girls impatiently waited while John 
fitted the key to the lock. 

“Hurrah!” cried Patsy as the door swung 
open, “for a ‘life on the ocean wave/ ” 

“It would require a vivid imagination to see 
ocean waves in that millpond,” giggled Mabel. 

“Miss Martha, please come upstairs with me 
and explore while these two able-bodied seamen 
settle the matter of boats,” laughed Eleanor, 
stretching out her hand to Miss Carroll. 

“Me, too,” clamored Mabel ungrammatically. 

“Go ahead,” said Patsy. “We’ll call you when 
John gets the canoes out.” 

“Why, John!” exclaimed Patsy a moment 
later, “I thought you said there were three ca¬ 
noes.” 

“So I did, miss,” replied the man, who had been 
eyeing the boats with rather a peculiar expres¬ 
sion. “I see that there’s one missing.” 

“Were they all here last night?” queried Bee. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


85 


“I don’t know, miss,” was the reply. “I wasn’t 
down here last night. I haven’t been down here 
for three days.” 

“Weren’t you here last night, about ten 
o’clock, and didn’t you cross the lawn and stop 
under the trees for a minute?” asked Beatrice 
anxiously. 

“No, miss,” answered John. “I was in bed 
and sound asleep long before that. Did you 
think you saw someone?” 

“Think!” exclaimed Bee. “I know I saw 
someone. We all saw the light in the boathouse, 
and then, afterward, I saw a man on the lawn.” 

“And now the canoe is gone,” added Patsy. 
“It’s plain that we’ve had a visit from sneak 
thieves. They’ll be apt to try the house next. 
Was the canoe a good one, John?” 

“The best of the three,” replied John. “It was 
the largest and would hold four people. Mr. 
Rupert always used it.” He stood staring at 
the empty space, a curious knowing expression 
settling on his face. 

Patricia glanced at him sharply. 

“What is it, John?” she asked. “Have you a 
clue to the mystery?” 

“No, indeed, miss,” was the quick reply. “Shall 
I get the canoes out, miss?” 




86 


PATSY CARROLL 


“He suspects someone, or knows more about it 
than he’ll say,” decided Patsy inwardly. 

“Yes, please get them out at once,” she di¬ 
rectly shortly. Her suspicions had been aroused. 
“And, John,” she added, “you are not to mention 
this to anyone.” 

“Very well, miss,” was the quiet reply. 

“It will be better not to tell Aunt Martha and 
the girls, don’t you think so?” 

“Yes,” nodded Bee. “It would only frighten 
them.” 

“Perhaps the one who took the canoe will re¬ 
turn it,” said John slowly. He did not look at 
the girls as he spoke. 

“Perhaps you have some strong reason for so 
believing,” returned Bee, rather sharply. 
“Thieves do not, as a rule, return their plunder.” 

“That’s quite true, miss,” the man agreed 
smoothly, although he colored slightly. Then, 
with a murmured excuse, he walked away. 

“I wonder,” began Bee, “if-” 

“Come up here,” interrupted a gay voice, and 
Mabel appeared at the head of the little stairway. 

“Not a word about the canoe,” again cautioned 
Patsy as the two girls ascended the stairs. 

“Oh, how pretty!” was their concerted cry, as 
they looked about them. 





AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


87 


The second story of the boathouse consisted 
of a small living-room that opened out on to a 
rustic porch. The floor of the room was covered 
with a rug of green crex, the walls were done in 
a cream paper, with a tiny green stripe sur¬ 
mounted by a border of green leaves. There 
was a dainty tea table and a number of comfort¬ 
able wicker chairs, while at one end of the room 
was a huge chintz-covered couch piled high with 
gay cushions. From the veranda one beheld the 
lake, glistening in the morning sun, and the 
chain of islands that almost divided it in halves 
looked like emeralds set in the blue of the water. 

“Eleanor,” said Miss Martha, “will you run up 
to the house and get my book? This veranda is 
an ideal place to sit and read, and I shall finish 
my story while you are out on the lake. It is that 
thick red book on my dressing table.” 

Eleanor was off before Miss Carroll had fin¬ 
ished speaking. The three other girls descended 
more slowly, to find all in readiness for them. 

“You take Mabel, Bee,” directed Patsy, “and 
I’ll take Eleanor. She’ll be back in a minute. 
She knows how to paddle, and can help me.” 

“What about John?” asked Bee doubtfully. 
“You know what Miss Martha said.” 

“John may stand on the shore and watch us,” 




88 


PATSY CARROLL 


replied Patsy calmly. “Only two people can 
get into one of these canoes. Aunt Martha won’t 
see us until we are fairly started. Then, when 
she does see that we are all right, she’ll subside 
without a murmur. Hurry up, Eleanor,” she 
called as Eleanor appeared with the book. 

“Would you care very much if I didn’t go this 
morning, girls?” asked Eleanor. “I have a slight 
headache, and I feel like sitting on that dear lit¬ 
tle porch with Miss Martha.” 

“Poor, dear girl,” sympathized Patsy wick¬ 
edly. “Her sha’n’t go out on the nasty old water. 
Her shall sit on the nice porch, as her wants to, 
and not do nussing. You’re excused, Nellie; 
but, incidentally, keep my respected aunt’s at¬ 
tention on your charming self, so that she doesn’t 
notice our lack of male escort.” 

“Thank you for so graciously excusing me,” 
smiled Eleanor. “I’ll do my best.” 

“That alters our program somewhat,” said 
Bee. “Suppose I take this canoe alone, and you 
and Mabel take the other.” 

“Very well,” replied Patsy, and, taking their 
respective places, the canoes slipped gently out 
on the quiet bosom of Lake Placid. 

It was a glorious midsummer morning. The 
fragrance of pine and balsam was wafted to them 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


89 


from the wooded shores, while a soft, frolicsome 
breeze played with Bee’s curls, and took unwar¬ 
ranted liberties with the hair of her companions. 
Overhead, the sky was a solid arch of brilliant 
blue, while all around them sounded the soft 
murmur of woodland life steadily going forward* 
despite the inroads made upon it by civilization 

“She hasn’t noticed yet,” said Patsy to MabeL 
“She’s looking very complacently at us. Now 
she has begun to read. Once she sees that we are 
all right without John, she’ll withdraw her stern 
opposition.” 

“Which way shall we go?” called Bee, who had 
taken the lead. 

“Straight over to those islands,” Patsy re¬ 
turned. “Once we get on the other side of them 
we’ll be out of sight and out of mind. Then we 
can take our time.” 

Beatrice sent her canoe flying over the water 
with a sure, skilful dip of the paddle that betok¬ 
ened long experience, and she soon outdistanced 
Patsy and Mabel. She decided to make the is¬ 
lands, then wait for her friends to come up. 

“I wonder which of these islands is which,” she 
pondered. “Buck, Moose and Hawk; let me see, 
the guidebook says Hawk island is at the foot of 
Mount Whiteface. That must be it.” Bee raised 




90 


PATSY CARROLL 


her paddle and pointed to the mountain for her 
own edification. Then, as she drifted toward its 
closely wooded bank, she laughed gleefully. 

“I’ll fool the girls,” she said aloud. “I’ll swing 
in here and slide under these bushes. When they 
come up they won’t find little Bee. After I keep 
them guessing for a while, I’ll condescend to ap¬ 
pear.” 

From her secluded position Bee could not see 
her friends, but scarcely had she settled herself 
before the dip-dip of a paddle announced the ap¬ 
proach of someone. Bee crouched down in the 
canoe, smiling to herself. Then, to her surprise, 
the sound of a strangely familiar voice was borne 
to her ears. 

“An imbecile would have better sense,” growled 
the voice. 

“I don’t see it that way,” came the answer. 
“This is a free country.” 

Bee started slightly. Where had she heard the 
second voice? Just then the canoe came almost 
abreast of hers. Bee raised herself a little in 
order to get a better view of its occupants. The 
one man she at once recognized. It was Barry 
Edmunds’ father. But the man with the paddle 
sat with his face turned toward the opposite 
shore, his panama hat drawn low over his eyes. 

































- 


* 

. 















































AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


9i 


“I can’t stay cooped up there all the time,” he 
was saying, “and that sly little trickster can wind 
the servants around her fingers. She won’t have 
the nerve to approach a lot of strangers, though.” 

“Strangers,” sneered Mr. Edmunds. “She has 
met them already, as I just told you, and as soon 
as she finds out where they are living there will 
be no keeping her away from there. She’ll fight 
you to the last ditch, and you know it. It’s there, 
and she believes it to be there, and you had bet¬ 
ter get on the job and find it first. You’ll have 
to devise some scheme to clear the-” 

The words died away as the canoe swept on 
out of the range of Bee’s hearing and headed to¬ 
ward the farthest distant shore. Bee pushed her 
canoe out from the screen of bushes, her desire 
to hide from Patsy and Mabel completely for¬ 
gotten. Her mind was busy reviewing the con¬ 
versation she had overheard. Whoever the “she” 
referred to as a “sly little trickster” might be, it 
was evident that the two men were her sworn ene¬ 
mies. Bee experienced a sudden, inexplicable 
rush of sympathy toward the unknown girl or 
woman who was evidently in the black books of 
these two men. But where, where had she heard 
that voice? 

“If only I could think,” she ruminated. Then 





92 


PATSY CARROLL 


she shook her head impatiently. “Stop it, Bea¬ 
trice Forbes, this minute. You’ll never know 
the beginning or end of that conversation, and 
it’s none of your business. Why do you care 
whose voice you heard?” 

Just then a long, clear call sounded across the 
water. Startled from her reflections. Bee 
glanced in the direction of the sound. Patsy 
and Mabel were coming directly toward her with 
a fine flourish of paddles. 

“You wicked girl,” cried Patsy as they 
brought up beside Bee’s canoe. “Now, confess 
you were hiding from us.” 

“Did you pass two men in a big canoe ?” asked 
Bee irrelevantly. 

“We passed half a dozen canoes, but we were 
too busy trying to locate one wicked runaway 
girl to notice who was in them,” retorted Patsy 
reproachfully. “Why do you ask, Bee? Has 
anything exciting happened since you chose to 
paddle off by yourself? If there has, tell us at 
once. No fair having secrets from your little 
pals.” 

Bee shook her head. “Nothing has hap¬ 
pened.” She decided not to mention the strange 
bit of conversation she had overheard. It was, 
after all, not her affair. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


93 


‘Til race you back to the boathouse,” she pro¬ 
posed. “We’d better not stay out on the lake 
too long. Miss Martha might not like it.” 

“All right.” Patsy and Mabel brought their 
canoe about and ranged up at an even keel with 
Bee. 

“One, two, three, go!” cried Patsy. 

The two canoes darted over the water like 
live things. Bee soon took the lead and kept 
it, arriving at the goal several boat lengths ahead 
of Patsy and Mabel. 

“I challenge you to another race to-morrow 
morning, and I’ll beat you. See if I don’t,” de¬ 
clared Patsy as she leaped nimbly to the birch- 
bark platform. Glancing up at the rustic porch 
she remarked in a lower tone, “We’re in luck, 
children. Auntie hasn’t even seen us, let alone 
noticing our Johnless state. She’s still deep in 
her book. Here comes the worthy John to look 
after the canoes.” 

As the man approached, she called out, “Oh, 
John, did you find the missing canoe?” 

“No, miss,” returned the man politely, then 
hurried down the platform as though to avoid 
further questioning. 

“He knows all about it,” reflected Bee 
shrewdly. “Very likely he has lent it to some of 



94 


PATSY CARROLL 


his friends and doesn’t dare say so. It looks to 
me as though John might bear watching.” 

And then and there was born in her mind a 
feeling of distrust for the man which she never 
had reason to change. 





CHAPTER IX 


A PILGRIMAGE AND A SURPRISE 

T HE days immediately following their ar¬ 
rival, although extremely pleasant, passed 
rather uneventfully for the Wayfarers. 
Aside from canoeing and playing tennis, the four 
girls and Miss Carroll were to be found either 
on the boathouse porch or at ease on the spacious 
veranda of Wilderness Lodge. Bee pounced 
with joy upon the library as her chosen domain, 
and the rows and rows of rare books were to her 
a treasure trove. As yet they had come in con¬ 
tact with none of the social life for which Lake 
Placid is noted, and their nearest approach to a 
desire for companionship outside their own little 
circle had been a dinner at one of the principal 
hotels in the village. 

The truth of the matter was that, without real¬ 
izing it, they were all very tired. The early sum¬ 
mer had been unusually hot and trying, the four 

95 


96 


PATSY CARROLL 


girls had worked hard in school, and the total re¬ 
laxation that this luxurious camp-life offered was 
exactly suited to their needs. 

The inevitable reaction came, however, one 
bright sunny morning as the quartette sat around 
the old-fashioned mahogany table in the library 
writing letters to their home folks. 

“Honestly, girls,” Patsy exclaimed, closing 
her fountain pen with undue energy, “I am get¬ 
ting tired of the simple life.” 

“I have been waiting to hear you say so,” com¬ 
mented Beatrice. “I’m not tired of this restful 
life, but I’d like to go out and explore the coun¬ 
try. As worthy Wayfarers it is up to us to do a 
little wayfaring.” 

“You see,” went on Patsy, “we were all rather 
wilted when we arrived here, only we didn’t 
know it. Then the change of air made us feel 
sleepy all the time. Now we are getting accli¬ 
mated and I long to be up and doing. Our poor 
old car has been shut up in the garage most of 
the time. I know it’s tired enough to chug-chug 
with rage and stamp its tires.” 

“This is the first place I’ve ever been that we 
didn’t meet a number of nice people from the 
very start,” remarked Mabel Perry, who was ex¬ 
tremely fond of society. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


97 


“We know the Edmunds,” reminded Eleanor, 
“but we don’t know where they live and-” 

“We don’t wish to,” finished Patsy. “That is, 
except the son. There are loads of stunts to do 
here,” she continued. “We must take automo¬ 
bile trips all around, and then we must do some 
mountain climbing, and we simply must engage 
a guide and go camping.” 

“Miss Martha said we couldn’t,” reminded 
Eleanor primly. 

“Never mind, little Miss Prunes and Prisms,” 
teased Patsy. “Where there’s a will there’s a 
way. Leave such delicate matters to your wor¬ 
thy chief. Miss Patricia Carroll. We’ll go 
camping, never fear,” she promised. “Now you 
girls must hurry and finish your letters. I am 
about to peruse my well-thumbed guide book and 
see what it offers in the way of attractions.” 

Patricia darted out of the library and upstairs 
after the book, and the girls bent over their let¬ 
ters. 

Presently she returned, curled herself up in a 
deep-seated leather chair, and began to read. 
For the next ten minutes silence reigned, then 
with a sudden “I’ve got it. The very thing!” 
Patsy, with her finger in her book to hold the 
place, began marching up and down the library, 




98 


PATSY CARROLL 


singing, “John Brown’s body lies a-mouldering 
in the grave,” at the top of her voice. 

“Patricia Carroll, have you suddenly gone 
crazy?” sounded Miss Martha’s disapproving 
voice from the doorway. “I heard your noise 
from the veranda.” 

“My dearest and most amicable of relatives,” 
purred Patsy bowing down to the ground in true 
eastern fashion, “I am'not mad. I have merely 
made a discovery.” 

“But what has John Brown’s body to do with 
it?” asked Beatrice, laughing at her friend’s an¬ 
tics. 

“Everything in the world,” beamed Patsy. 
“That is, not his body, but his grave.” 

“Patsy,” averred Eleanor solemnly, “I don’t 
think you are exactly crazy, but .there are really 
such things as brainstorms.” 

There was a shout of laughter at this, in which 
even Miss Carroll joined. 

“Nellie, I assure you that this particular men¬ 
tal aberration is written down in this very guide 
book. I have discovered that John Brown’s body 
lies a-mouldering in the grave, about two miles 
from here, and that people make pilgrimages to 
the historic spot. Now, am I crazy, or am I 
not?” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


99 


‘‘You are not,” assured Mabel, visibly im¬ 
pressed. 

“You are not,” mechanically repeated the oth~ 
ers. 

“Thank you,” acknowledged Patsy, making 
four bows in rapid succession. “I will now pro¬ 
ceed with my discourse and suggest that we make 
our pilgrimage this very afternoon.” 

“Shall we walk?” asked Beatrice. 

“Not if you expect me to accompany you,” 
returned Miss Martha decidedly, “and I have no 
intention of allowing you to rush off into the 
woods alone.” 

“We’ll use the bubble, of course, Aunt Mar¬ 
tha,” replied Patricia in soothing tones. “May 
we start as soon as luncheon is over?” 

“That will be the best time for the drive,” con¬ 
ceded Miss Carroll. “I insist that we return in 
plenty of time for dinner. I don’t fancy being 
caught out on the mountain roads after dark.” 

At luncheon the drive to John Brown’s tomb 
was the all-engrossing subject of conversation. 
Patricia, who had been an assiduous disciple of 
the guide book, fairly spouted information con¬ 
cerning the poor old man and his mistaken mis¬ 
sion, while the others listened with interest. 

Patricia and Mabel went out to the garage 




PATSY CARROLL 


the moment they had finished their dessert to 
ask John to get out the car, and twenty minutes 
later the Wayfarers had again resumed their own 
places in it and were off for an afternoon’s out¬ 
ing. 

The run to North Elba, where the hero of Har¬ 
pers Ferry lies buried, was a matter of a few 
minutes only and, as Patsy laughingly remarked, 
they had reached their journey’s end before they 
had fairly started. 

“We’ll leave the car right here,” she an¬ 
nounced after looking about for a good place. 
“The grave is close to that big boulder. Pile out, 
folks, and follow me.” 

Obeying her command, they alighted from the 
automobile and strolled over to where in the 
shadow of a huge rock was the last resting place 
of the dauntless old man who, firm in his belief 
that he was the destined liberator of an oppressed 
race, bravely met his defeat at Harper’s Ferry, 
and paid the penalty with his life. 

“Here is his name and the date of the execu¬ 
tion,” said Patricia softly, pointing to the in¬ 
scription carved on the boulder. 


“JOHN BROWN, 
1859 .” 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


IOI 


she read, a note of reverence in her young voice. 

“Yes, and this stone at the head of the grave 
itself was erected for his grandfather, Captain 
John Brown, a Revolutionary soldier,” ex¬ 
claimed Beatrice, reading the first inscription. 
“And those are the names of his sons, Frederick, 
who was killed at Ossawatomie, and Oliver and 
Watson, who were both killed at Harper’s 
Ferry.” 

“Poor, brave soul,” said Mabel. “He felt so 
sure that he could put an end to slavery.” 

“The guide book says,” related Patsy, “that 
he chose this very spot for the terminal of his 
famous underground railroad, and that here he 
intended to have his colony of runaway slaves. 
But he never carried out his plans. Just think, 
girls, this farm was his home for ten years, and 
long, long after he had been buried here it was to 
be sold under foreclosure. Then a woman by the 
name of Kate Field worked very hard to have it 
redeemed, and in 1898 it was presented to the 
state of New York, and the state accepted it and 
unveiled a commemoration monument that same 
year.” 

“I’m ashamed to confess it,” smiled Mabel, 
“but I have always had the idea that John Brown 
was buried at Harper’s Ferry.” 




102 


PATSY CARROLL 


“And you are not the only one, my dear,” re¬ 
sponded Miss Carroll calmly, “for that was pre¬ 
cisely my idea.” 

“Such deplorable ignorance of the vital facts 
of the history of our country,” jeered Patricia. 

“ ‘Assume a knowledge if you have it not,’ ” 
paraphrased Bee. “Anyone with a guide book 
can become a spouting fountain of knowledge.” 

“It is plain to be seen, Miss Beatrice Forbes, 
that you have not proper respect for my years 
and wisdom,” retorted Patsy severely. 

“ ‘I know it is a sin 

For me to sit and grin,’ ” 

quoted Bee wickedly. 

“That will do, Bee. You are merely adding 
insult to injury.” 

Patricia began very sternly and ended with a 
giggle. “Shall we say good-bye to John Brown 
and be on our way? We have lots of time before 
night. Suppose we motor forth in search of ad¬ 
venture.” 

The pilgrims, after a final survey of the ob¬ 
ject of their pilgrimage, retraced their steps to 
their car. 

“Hello!” exclaimed Patsy. “There’s another 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


103 


car standing beside ours! Just see those two 
men stare at our automobile. What do you sup¬ 
pose they are staring at?” 

“Perhaps someone has cut the tires or injured 
it in some way,” said Eleanor. 

“They’d better be careful what they do,” men¬ 
aced Patsy. 

The two men, their backs partially turned to¬ 
ward the Wayfarers, were so deeply absorbed 
in their examination of Patricia’s car that they 
failed to hear the approaching footsteps of the 
party until the murmur of the girls’ voices caused 
one of them suddenly to straighten up, and after 
a comprehensive stare, pull off his cap and rush 
forward with outstretched hand, exclaiming: 
“Patricia Carroll, of all girls! Well, if this isn’t 
luck!” 

“Roland Carroll!” was Patricia’s answering 
cry of surprise. 

“What did I tell you, Hal?” The young man 
turned to his companion, a tall, good-looking 
youth with dancing dark eyes. “Didn’t I say 
that this car had a familiar look? I guess I have 
seen it before. And if here isn’t Aunt Martha. 
My dear Aunt, let me introduce my friend, Mr. 
Parks. Patricia, Mr. Parks.” He looked ex¬ 
pectantly at Patricia. She presented him and 





104 


PATSY CARROLL 


his companion to the three girls, and a lively 
conversation began. 

“But, tell me, how do you happen to be in this 
part of the world, Roland?” asked Miss Martha. 
“Your father and mother were at Cape May 
when I last heard from them.” 

“Oh, they are still there,” returned Roland. 
“I’m visiting Hal, my old pal. His governor 
has a summer camp over at Signal Hill. This is 
the second summer I’ve been up here with him. 
I think it’s the best kind of a place to put in a 
vacation. But the real question is, how do you 
happen to be here ? I can guess that Patsy is at 
the bottom of it.” 

“You are a good guesser,” laughed Patricia. 
“I am chief chauffeur of a worthy band who call 
themselves the Wayfarers. We motored all the 
way up here with little Patsy at the wheel, and 
after numerous haps and mishaps arrived at 
our camp, longing for new adventures. Five 
dauntless dames devoted to doing daring deeds, 
you know,” she grinned boyishly at her big, fair¬ 
haired cousin. 

“And where is ‘our camp’?” he asked. “I 
didn’t know Uncle Robert owned a camp at 
Lake Placid.” 

“He doesn’t,” was Patricia’s response. “We 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


105 


have leased one for the summer. It was only by 
sheer luck that Father happened upon it. It is 
called Wilderness Lodge, and it’s the comfiest 
place you ever saw.” 

“Wilderness Lodge! You don’t mean it?” 
cried Hal Parks in excitement. “That is, you 
don’t mean to say that you are the people who 
have leased the Lodge?” 

“We are the very people,” replied Patsy; “but 
is there any crime attached to living there?” 

“Of course not,” Hal laughingly reassured her. 
“I was merely surprised. You see, we heard 
about you through the owner, but had no idea 
it was anyone that Roland knew. This world is 
really a very small affair, after all.” 

“Dad arranged the whole thing,” explained 
Patricia. “We have never met Mr. Grandin. 
He went on a trip to Colorado before we came.” 

“Went to Colorado?” exclaimed Hal. “Why, 
I saw him only yesterday at the Yacht Club.” 

“That’s strange,” marveled Patricia aloud. 
“Perhaps he changed his mind about going at 
the last minute.” 

“Come to think of it, Hal,” put in Roland, “I 
believe he did mention to me the other day that 
unforeseen circumstances had prevented his go¬ 
ing on a western trip.” 



io 6 


PATSY CARROLL 


“What sort of person is this Mr. Grandin, 
Roland?” inquired Miss Martha. “Now that he 
has decided to remain at home, perhaps he will 
regret leasing his house to us, and try to make us 
vacate.” 

“He can’t do it,” exulted Patsy. “Father 
builded better than he knew when he arranged 
for that very contingency. Our lease takes care 
of all that.” 

“To tell you the truth, Aunt Martha, I don’t 
particularly fancy the man,” said Roland. “I 
met him not long ago through some friends of 
Mother’s who knew his uncle. Hal has known 
him longer than I have. I hardly think he’ll un¬ 
dertake disturbing you. No doubt you’ll meet 
him sooner or later. Then you can judge of him 
for yourself.” 

“I say, Roland, why don’t we take Miss Car- 
roll and the other Wayfarers over to the Lake 
Placid Club for dinner?” asked Hal. “Have you 
been there yet?” he asked, turning to the auto- 
mobilists. 

“No; but I’d love to go,” responded Patsy fer¬ 
vently. “How about it, Auntie dear, and you 
girls?” 

The three girls smiled their willingness. 

“We are not very appropriately gowned for 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


107 


dinner, Roland,” demurred Miss Carroll. “Some 
other day perhaps-” 

“No; to-night,” persisted Roland. “It’s a club¬ 
house, and up here where people go in for motor¬ 
ing and mountain climbing two-thirds of the 
time, they dress for comfort rather than style.” 

“Please say ‘yesMiss Carroll,” begged 
Hal. 

“Please say ‘yes,’ ” echoed four girlish voices. 

“Yes, then, if I must,” said Miss Carroll in a 
resigned tone. 

“Hurrah for Aunt Martha, Queen of the 
Wayfarers,” cried Roland. “Pile in the cars, 
folks, and we’ll be on our way.” 

It was quickly arranged that Roland should 
take the lead with Hal’s car, Bee and Mabel 
riding with him, while Hal was to occupy Bee’s 
seat beside Patsy, with Eleanor and Miss Martha 
in their usual places in the tonneau. The boys 
helped the girls into their respective cars: 

“All aboard for the Yacht Club,” sang out 
Roland as he energetically cranked up the ma¬ 
chine and climbed into his seat. 

“Aye, aye, sir,” called Hal from the car be¬ 
hind. Then the two automobiles with their 
freight of happy young people sped down the 
smooth road. 





CHAPTER X 


The Man in the Panama Hat. 

u rx^ HAT is Hal’s father’s camp over there, 
Patsy,” pointed Roland. “You can just 
see a little of it through the trees.” 

The party of pleasure-seekers had finished 
dinner and were seated on the broad veranda of 
the club house. The sun had dropped low in 
the west, touching the tranquil surface of Mir¬ 
ror Lake with fingers of gold and fire. The 
beauty of the sunset had cast its spell upon the 
little company, and Roland’s remark had broken 
in upon an absolute silence. Patricia leaned for¬ 
ward, following with her eyes Roland’s index¬ 
ing finger. 

“Oh, yes,” she replied. “I can see the house 
quite plainly. What do you call your camp, Mr. 
Parks? Naming one’s camp is an essential up 
here, I imagine.” 

“Yes, every camp has a handle attached to 

108 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


109 


it. We call ours ‘Singing Pines.’ ” Hal was 
rather proud of the name. 

“How pretty!” exclaimed Mabel. “It sounds 
Indian, like ‘Laughing Water,’ and all that.” 

“I named it,” he returned with satisfaction. 
“The house, as you can see, is surrounded by 
pine trees, and when the wind sweeps through 
them, actually they do seem to sing.” 

“Do you know many people here, Mr. Parks?” 
asked Miss Martha, who had a decided leaning 
toward the social amenities. 

“Mother claims that she knows every one here 
worth while, and she drags me to parties with 
her whenever she gets a chance,” laughed Hal. 
“Therefore I do the social stunt when I can’t 
slide out of it. I’d rather by far be comfortable 
in old clothes and go hunting and fishing with 
Roland.” 

“Yes, Aunt Martha,” interposed Roland, “we 
desert whenever we can, which is pretty often.” 

“Mother will be delighted to know you,” con¬ 
tinued Hal. “She’ll probably motor over bright 
and early in the morning. We used to dine fre¬ 
quently at the Lodge, while old Mr. Wellington 
lived.” 

“Do tell me about him, Mr. Parks,” begged 
Patricia. 



110 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Please, do,” echoed three curious voices. 

“Yes, Mr. Parks, by all means satisfy the 
rabid curiosity of these girls, if you can, in regard 
to the late owner of the Lodge,” said Miss Car- 
roll. “They even waylaid the housekeeper the 
other day to ask questions.” 

“That reminds me,” remarked Mabel, “she 
never told us who Miss Cecil was. We were in 
a hurry to go canoeing and Miss Martha called 
us to come on before we found out. Has anyone 
asked Mrs. Harding about it since then?” 

The three girls answered in the negative. 

“The ‘Cecil’ you are anxious to know about 
must be Cecil Vane,” began Hal. “She was 
old Ebenezer Wellington’s ward, and she thought 
the world of him and he was very fond of her. 
Every one up here knew her and liked her. 
She’s one of the nicest, squarest, prettiest girls 
I ever met, and she was awfully popular with the 
younger set at Lake Placid.” 

“Why do you say ‘is’ and then ‘was’?” asked 
Patricia quickly. “Is she dead?” 

“Dead! Mercy, no,” returned Hal. “Far from 
it. But she doesn’t live up here any more. She’s 
down in Albany doing special work on one of the 
newspapers and it’s a burning shame, too. It 
was this way,” he continued. “She had always 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


hi 


been told by Mr.Wellington that she had plenty 
of money that her father had left in trust for her. 
Well, after the old man died last spring it was 
discovered that she hadn’t a cent of her own. 
She was a proud little thing, and he knew that 
she would insist on looking out for herself if he 
told her the truth. So he let her think she was 
an heiress. The strange part of it all is that he 
died without making a will, and everything went 
to his nephew, Rupert Grandin, who was a 
proverbial thorn to his flesh. Poor Cecil didn’t 
get a penny. This Grandin was in love with 
Cecil, and she hated him like poison. He invited 
her to marry him, and she declined his invitation 
without thanks. That made him awfully sore. 
Soon after old Ebenezer Wellington was laid 
away, Cecil left the Lodge and went to Albany. 
She got work on one of the newspapers there, 
and she’s been there ever since.” 

“Cecil Vane,” murmured Beatrice reflectively. 
“Why, girls, we met a Miss Vane with Mr. Barry 
Edmunds at Saratoga. Could that be the girl?” 

“That’s Cecil,” replied Hal. “She’s engaged 
to Barry, and mighty fine chap he is. But his 
people are awfully opposed to it, and make his 
life fairly miserable about her.” 

“That, then, accounts for some things,” ex- 




112 


PATSY CARROLL 


claimed Mabel. “No wonder his father and 
mother glared when I memtioned her.” 

“I thought you said you knew no one up here,” 
said Hal. “The Edmunds would have connip¬ 
tions if they heard you say that. They have a 
large and healthy admiration for themselves. 
That is, the father and mother and Imogen have. 
Barry’s all right. He’s a first-rate fellow. 
Where in the world did you meet him?” 

“We shall have to begin at the beginning arid 
tell you,” said Patricia. Thereupon she launched 
forth into a brief history of their accident, the 
ungracious motorist, their rescue by Barry Ed¬ 
munds, and the dance at Saratoga. 

“You certainly did spring a surprise on poor 
old Barry, Miss Perry,” smiled Hal. “His 
father is death on Cecil, just because she’s poor. 
He has threatened to disown Barry if he doesn’t 
give her up. He, poor chap, has another year 
yet in college before he’ll graduate as a full- 
fledged civil engineer, and that’s why he and 
Cecil aren’t flaunting their engagement in peo¬ 
ple’s faces. If it came to an irrevocable decision, 
you can wager that Barry would work for his 
board during his final year in college, rather than 
give up Cecil Vane.” 

“How delightfully romantic,” glowed Patsy. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


111 

“There is nothing quite so interesting as other 
folks’ love affairs.” 

“I say, Patsy,” interrupted Roland excitedly, 
his eyes on an approaching gray clad figure, 
“didn’t you tell me you had never seen Rupert 
Grandin?” 

“Yes.” The four girls answered in a breath of 
expectancy. 

“Well, there he comes up the walk now. The 
tall man in the gray suit and panama hat.” 

The five women looked simultaneously in the 
direction of the approaching figure and saw a 
young man with a thin, pointed face and a dis¬ 
agreeable mouth. His hat was drawn low over 
his eyes, yet none of them failed to recognize him 
instantly. 

The was a quick exchange of astonished 
glances mingled with dismay. 

“What is the matter?” questioned Hal, look¬ 
ing wonderingly from one to the other. 

“Matter!” gasped Patsy. “This is the very 
irony of fate. And to think that he is our land¬ 
lord,” she added, turning to her aunt. 

“I don’t in the least understand,” said Hal 
good naturedly. “What’s the joke?” 

“It’s no joke,” replied Patsy. “It might bet¬ 
ter be considered in the light of tragedy. Our 




PATSY CARROLL 


114 

present landlord is the man who unfeelingly 
left us to our fate on the road to Albany, when 
our car broke down.” 

“By the great horned spoon!” ejaculated Hal. 
“That certainly is a pleasant state of affairs. 
The funny part of it is that you will be bound to 
meet him socially. He is received up here be¬ 
cause he is Ebenezer Wellington’s nephew. The 
old gentleman was well liked, but I can’t 
truthfully say the same about Grandin. Of 
course, what you have told me only strength¬ 
ens the natural dislike I have always felt for 
him.” 

“I, for one,” announced Miss Carroll, with de¬ 
cision, “refuse to acknowledge an introduction 
to that man, and I shall expect you girls to do 
the same.” 

“Never fear, Miss Martha,” Mabel assured 
her. “We’ll annihilate him with one lightning 
glance if he comes too near.” 

“How glad I am not to be Grandin,” laughed 
Roland. “Miss Mabel inspires me with profound 
terror.” 

“It is fearfully inconvenient to be on the outs 
with one’s landlord,” smiled Eleanor. 

“Yes, for the landlord,” replied Roland gal¬ 
lantly. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


“5 


“That was nicely said, Roland,” approved 
Patsy. “Wasn’t it, Bee?” 

“What did you say? Oh! yes,” Beatrice 
looked at Patricia abstractedly. Her thoughts 
had reverted to that morning on the lake when 
she overheard the conversation between Mr. 
Edmunds and the man whose face she could not 
see. He had worn a gray suit, and a panama 
hat pulled low over his eyes. His voice? Now 
she remembered where she had heard it before, 
and with the knowledge that the voice belonged 
to Rupert Grandin came the conviction that the 
“she” referred to by them had been Cecil Vane. 
Again Bee reviewed the snatch of conversation 
she had overheard. Who were the “strangers” 
that Cecil Vane had already met, and what place 
was it that there would be “no keeping her away 
from”? Above all, what was it that both Cecil 
and these strangers were so anxious to find? 

Bee leaned back in her chair with a puzzled 
frown, intent on finding an answer to those baf¬ 
fling questions. The merry conversation of her 
friends came dimly to her ears as her active mind 
searched diligently for the key to the engima. 

“Mabel has a hopeless ‘crush’ on that pretty 
Miss Vane,” Patricia was informing Roland and 
Hal. “She is pining to know her better. Do 




PATSY CARROLL 


ii 6 


you suppose, under the circumstances, that Miss 
Vane would be persuaded to make us a visit? I’d 
be willing to even motor down to Albany after 
her. That is, if Aunt Martha were willing to go, 
and there were any prospect of bringing her back 
with us. I am awfully interested in her, and, 
besides, I’d like to tantalize our amiable land¬ 
lord. Of course, we are comparative strangers 
to her, but she has already met us and-” 

Beatrice suddenly sat up very straight, her 
brown eyes opening wide. Patsy’s chance re¬ 
mark had made clear what had seemed so 
abstruse. The “strangers” were the Wayfarers. 
The place was Wilderness Lodge. How fool¬ 
ish of her not to have thought of it before. 

As for the answer to the third question. 
Bee sighed. Her newly acquired knowledge 
amounted to very little after all. There was 
one person besides the two conspirators however, 
that could answer it and Bee secretly deter¬ 
mined that Cecil Vane should have a chance to 
do so at the earliest opportunity. 




CHAPTER XI 


WHAT BEATRICE FOUND 

I T was well after ten o’clock that night 
when the Wayfarers’ car rolled into the gar¬ 
age at Wilderness Lodge. Roland and Hal, 
whose way led in the same direction, had insisted 
on dividing the party, thus taking upon them¬ 
selves the duties of chauffeurs for the respective 
automobiles. For once Patricia rather enjoyed 
sitting back with folded hands and being bowled 
home over the moonlit road. It was a perfect 
summer evening and after the Wayfarers had 
said good night to Roland Carroll and Hal 
Parks they lingered on the wide comfortable ver¬ 
anda until Miss Martha fairly ordered them 
indoors and to bed. 

The next morning they were up in good season, 
and after a most substantial breakfast, the four 
girls strolled down to the boathouse again to go 
canoeing. Miss Martha had elected to sit on the 

117 


118 PATSY CARROLL 


broad veranda and finish the fat red novel she 
had been reading so industriously for the past 
two days. She had a vague impression that she 
might possibly receive a call from Harold Parks’ 
mother and therefore wished to be sure not to 
miss her. Although Miss Martha was by no 
means devoted to society, still she was not at all 
averse to meeting pleasant persons moving in 
her own particular social sphere, and the delight¬ 
ful glimpses she had caught thus far of life in the 
cool north woods, as lived by the owners of the 
beautiful camps along the shores of Mirror Lake, 
filled her with a mild desire to live it in the con¬ 
genial company of these luxurious summer 
idlers. 

“This morning will mark a great change in 
the spirit of Bee’s dream,” laughed Patricia as 
she unlocked the door of the boathouse. “I am 
going to race her again up to those little islands 
and back, and win.” 

“Oh, are you really?” jeered Beatrice. “Well, 
just you wait and see. Having once won the 
championship, I intend to keep it.” 

“Championship, indeed I” giggled Patsy de¬ 
risively. “One silly little half race.” 

“All right, beat me if you can,” challenged 
Beatrice. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


111 

“I can, and will,” flung back Patricia. 
“Choose your partners, girls, but don’t both of 
you choose me,” she counseled modestly. 

“Always be sure to pick a winner,” advised 
Beatrice. “Come on, Nellie, I know your faith 
in my skill as a canoeist is unshakable.” 

“All right. I’ll choose you. Bee,” returned 
Eleanor, “and Mab can go with Patsy.” 

“I wonder if the big canoe strayed back into 
the boathouse,” remarked Patricia as they step¬ 
ped inside. “No, it’s still among the missing. 
See, the place is vacant.” She pointed toward 
the empty space. The smaller canoes were 
drawn up on each side of it. “I wonder if we are 
responsible for its loss. We don’t know whether 
it was removed from here before we came or 
since.” 

“I think it disappeared the other night when I 
saw the light in the boathouse,” declared 
Beatrice. “Further, I believe John has a pretty 
good idea of where it is, only he won’t admit it. 
That’s the queer part of it. It’s really a 
mystery, isn’t it?” 

“There are already a lot of interesting points 
about the camp,” put in Patricia. “There’s the 
story of Cecil Yane and the mystery of why 
Rupert Grandin leased his lodge and then didn’t 



120 


PATSY CARROLL 


go away, and the ghost light in the boathouse, 
and the missing canoe.” 

“Well, maybe we’ll know the answer to all 
these riddles before we leave here,” was Eleanor’s 
hopeful comment. 

Beatrice and Patsy soon had the canoes float¬ 
ing on the smooth surface of the lake. It took 
but a moment to board them; then the two con¬ 
testants brought the prows of their respective 
canoes even with each other. Mabel counted, 
“One, two, three, go!” and they were off. 

Beatrice at first took the lead, but Patricia’s 
determination to win stood her in good stead 
and she was soon even with Bee, but, try as she 
might, she could not pass her. On the home¬ 
stretch, however, she made her first gain, and 
when the starting point was reached she had the 
satisfaction of conning in a mere trifle ahead of 
Beatrice. 

“Did you honestly and truly paddle as hard 
as you could?” she asked her friend. “You didn’t 
let me win purposely, did you, Bee?” 

“No, indeed,” laughed Beatrice. “It was a 
fair race. I give you my word, I paddled for all 
I was worth.” 

“It’s so lovely, let’s paddle over there on an 
exploring expedition,” proposed Patricia. “I’d 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


121 


like to go away beyond those islands. If we go 
farther up this lake we can see Singing Pines, 
the Parks’ camfp.” 

“Lead the way, we’ll paddle on to pastures 
new,” laughed Eleanor,. 

The four girls spent a sunlit happy morning 
on the water, paddling about the pretty lake to 
their hearts’ content. The sun was high in the 
heavens when they turned their prows toward 
the boathouse. 

“My goodness but I’m hungry,” sighed Mabel. 
“I’m sure it has been a hundred years since break¬ 
fast.” 

“Well, if it has been, you don’t show the rav¬ 
ages of time yet,” giggled Patsy. 

“It’s remarkable how some persons hold their 
ages, isn’t it. Bee?” 

“Perfectly wonderful,” returned Beatrice 
solemnly. 

Mabel lapsed into offended silence. She was 
the youngest of the four girls and her greatest 
fear was that she should be considered too youth¬ 
ful. It was not until Beatrice and Patricia as¬ 
sured her that she looked fully as grown up as 
they that she emerged from her shell and forgave 
them for teasing her. 

The Wayfarers ascended the steps of the ve- 



122 


PATSY CARROLL 


randa just as Miss Martha finished the last page 
of her book and closed it with decision. 

“Just in time,” whispered Patsy as her observ¬ 
ing eye noted it. “If she had finished ten minutes 
ago she’d be ready to ask us if John went with 
us, and other leading questions. As it is, we 
appear safe and sound, at the psychological 
moment, so she doesn’t really give us much 
thought. We can’t be bothered with John, but 
we’ll have to break it to her by degrees,” finished 
Patsy impishly. 

Never had their luncheon taster better to the 
Wayfarers. The bracing mountain air had given 
them keen appetites and they ate the dainty 
luncheon Mrs. Harding had planned for them 
with that pleasant zest that youth alone knows. 

After luncheon Miss Martha retired to her 
room for her afternoon nap, and by common con¬ 
sent the four girls settled themselves in the li¬ 
brary, a large somber room lined with shelf upon 
shelf of books, to write letters; Mabel and Elea¬ 
nor to their mother, Patsy to her father, and Bea¬ 
trice to her mother. 

For an hour silence reigned, then, with a little 
sigh of relief, Patsy closed her fountain pen and 
sat back to read over what she had written. 

“There,” remarked Bee, a little later, as she 





AT WILDERNESS LODGE 123 


gathered up the many sheets spread out before 
her. “I’ve told her everything I can think of.” 

“It looks as though you had material enough 
for a manuscript,” laughed Eleanor. 

“I know it,” apologized Bee. “I never can say 
all I wish in a few words. Once I get started I 
simply have to keep on going.” 

“But your letters are dandy, Bee,” praised 
Patricia. “They are so bright and interesting. 
Last year when I was at the seashore I just loved 
to get them. You will surely be a celebrated 
author, some day, you write so well.” 

Beatrice flushed deeply. To be a writer was 
her highest ambition. 

“It’s awfully good in you to believe in me, 
dear,” she said wistfully. “I’d like to be able 
to write well. Who knows, perhaps I may some 
day win a little fame if I work hard.” 

“Oh, we shall yet bow down to the ‘celebrated 
novelist Miss Beatrice Forbes, whose latest novel 
ranks first among the six best sellers,’ ” declaimed 
Patsy. 

“How ridiculous you are, Patsy!” laughed 
Beatrice. “I don’t expect to become great. I’ll 
be satisfied with a little glory.” Leaving her 
seat at the old-fashioned mahogany table, she be¬ 
gan inspecting the well-lined book-shelves. 




124 


PATSY CARROLL 


“What a lot of books that old Wellington 
person had,” she said, half to herself, as she took 
down one leather covered volume after another, 
“Some of them are first editions, and very valu¬ 
able, too. Oh! here’s one with Benjamin Frank¬ 
lin’s autograph on the flyleaf!” 

“Oh, do let us see it!” cried the girls, hurry¬ 
ing over to where Bee stood. 

Bee handed them the book, and reaching up, 
took from the same shelf a well-worn copy of 
Walton’s “Compleat Angler.” Opening it, she 
was about to examine the title page when a sealed 
envelope slid from among its pages and fell to 
the floor. Bee hastily picked it up and softly 
read the superscription. 

“What are you mumbling about. Bee?” asked 
Mabel, turning from her survey of the famous 
autograph. 

“See what I’ve found,” replied Bee, holding 
up the envelope. 

The four girls came at her call. 

“ ‘To my beloved Goldilocks,’ ” read Patsy 
over Bee’s shoulder. “ ‘To be opened after my 
death.’ It’s sealed, too,” she continued, turn¬ 
ing it over. “Now, who do you suppose wrote 
it, and who is ‘Goldilocks’? It must be some 
one’s pet name, of course.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


125 


“Perhaps it was that old Mr. Wellington who 
wrote this letter/’ suggested Eleanor. 

“That might be true/’ agreed Patsy, “but, 
even so, it doesn’t throw any light upon whoever 
‘Goldilocks’ may be. One thing certain she 
never received the letter that was intended for 
her.” 

“What shall we do with it?” asked Beatrice 
thoughtfully, the letter still in her hand. 

“Put it in this drawer of the table,” proposed 
Patsy, “and leave it there until we find out who 
the mysterious ‘Goldilocks’ is.” 

“I suppose that is about all we can do,” said 
Bee. She stood for a moment looking earnestly 
at the enigmatical superscription, then slipped 
the letter into the drawer. 

“For goodness’ sake don’t tell Aunt Martha 
about this,” cautioned Patsy. “She’d at once 
accuse us of hunting mischief. Surely some one 
around here knows about these Wellingtons and 
sooner or latter we’ll find out who ‘Goldilocks’ 
really is or was, whichever the case may be.” 

Dinner that night was rather a quiet affair. 
Black clouds had gathered in the west obscuring 
the sunset, and before seven o’clock it began to 
rain heavily. Miss Martha yawned openly and 
announced her intention of retiring early. At a 



126 


PATSY CARROLL 


little after nine the four girls repaired to Patsy’s 
room for a fudge party, and after an hour’s 
merry chatter over^ wafers and chocolate nut 
fudge, made in a chafing dish, they were sleepy 
enough to turn in for a long night’s rest. 

It was well toward one o’clock in the morn¬ 
ing when Beatrice awoke with a start. The house 
was absolutely silent. She lay staring into the 
darkness with wide-open eyes and ears keenly 
sensitive to every sound. To awaken late at 
night was not an uncommon occurrence with Bee, 
for she was a light sleeper; nevertheless she did 
not enjoy it, and, resolutely closing her eyes, 
she determined to go to sleep again as quickly 
as possible. 

But sleep would not come. Bee lay very still, 
fearful of disturbing Patsy, who was wrapped 
in peaceful slumber. She counted slowly to her¬ 
self. She watched an endless procession of im¬ 
aginary sheep jump over an imaginary fence. 
She tried various sleep-producing devices, but to 
no purpose. 

Suddenly a faint sound smote her ears. The 
door of their room stood open, and as she 
listened, keenly alert, the sound was repeated, 
this time even more faintly. Beatrice crept softly 
out of bed, groped for her kimono, which hung on 





































































































AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


127 


a nearby chair, and sliding her arms into the 
silken sleeves, wrapped its folds about her. Then 
going to Patsy’s traveling bag, she drew forth a 
small black bag, in which reposed the one weapon 
of defense the girls possessed, Patricia’s trusty 
little revolver. She had practiced shooting at 
a target with Patsy and understood its use. 

Her bare feet made no sound as she glided 
down the broad staircase. Once in the hall she 
paused, drew out her revolver, and stood await¬ 
ing a repetition of the disquieting sound. It 
came at last—from the direction of the library. 

Bee crept noiselessly forward, grasping her 
weapon firmly in her right hand, while with her 
left she reached for the button just inside the li¬ 
brary door. Then she pressed it, and an instant 
later the room was flooded with light. 

In the far corner of the room crouched a fig¬ 
ure. Bee covered it with her revolver, then gave 
an astonished exclamation as the figure straight¬ 
ened up with face still averted. The midnight 
intruder was not a man but a woman. 

“Who are you,” asked Beatrice in a low, stern 
voice, “and what are you doing here?” 

The averted face was suddenly turned de¬ 
fiantly toward Beatrice. “I am Cecil Vane,” she 
replied, “and I think we have met before.” 




CHAPTER XII 


A MIDNIGHT INTRUDER 

OR a moment Bee stood silent, too greatly 



astonished for words. Then she spoke. 


just above a whisper, “Don’t you think 
you owe me an explanation as to why you are 
here at this hour of the night, Miss Vane?” 

“I suppose so,” returned the intruder with re¬ 
markable composure. “I’m not what you might 
term a full-fledged burglar. I didn’t break into 
the Lodge. I let myself in the front door with 
a key. You can’t possibly be as surprised to 
see me as I am to see you. I did not know that 
there was anyone in the house except the ser¬ 
vants.” 

“Did not Mr. Edmunds tell you that Miss 
Carroll’s father had leased Wilderness Lodge for 
the summer?” asked Beatrice in her direct fash¬ 
ion. “We met him at Saratoga. He was there 
with his family.” 


128 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


129 


Cecil Vane shook her head. “I haven’t seen 
Mr. Edmunds since the day we met you on the 
road. He went to Buffalo on business the day 
after he stopped at Saratoga, and I have been in 
Albany ever since then. I came here to-day be¬ 
cause I had a reason for entering Wilderness 
Lodge once more. I had heard that its master 
had gone away. This used to be my home.” 
Her clear voice faltered a little. She turned ap¬ 
pealing eyes upon Beatrice. 

Bee laid her revolver on the library table and 
impulsively held out her hands. With a soft ex¬ 
clamation Cecil Vane grasped them. “I knew 
we’d be friends,” she declared, “even when I saw 
you leveling that absurd little revolver at me. Do 
let’s go over to the davenport and be comfy. 
Then I’ll prove to you that I’m not the lawless 
housebreaker I seem to be.” 

“I know that Wilderness Lodge used to be 
your home, Miss Vane,” said Beatrice softly, as 
they seated themselves close together on the big 
leather davenport. “We met some friends of 
yours yesterday, Mr. Harold Parks and Mr. Rol¬ 
and Carroll, Miss Patricia Carroll’s cousin. In 
telling them our adventures along the road, Miss 
Carroll mentioned our meeting with you and Mr. 
Edmunds. It was then that we found out that 




130 


PATSY CARROLL 


you were Mr. Wellington’s ward, and had once 
lived at the Lodge.” 

“Oh, have you met Hal Parks?” whispered 
Cecil delightedly. “He is such a nice boy; I like 
his chum, Roland Carroll, too. I’ve known Hal 
ever since he was in short trousers.” 

“I wish you’d tell me all about yourself,” 
breathed Beatrice. She preferred to remain si¬ 
lent regarding what Hal had told her of Cecil. 
She wished Cecil to tell her of her own free will. 

“All right, I will,” responded Cecil. “Confes¬ 
sion is good for the soul. To begin with, my 
name is Cecil Elizabeth Vane, and I lived in this 
dear, comfy house with my foster-father until 
last spring. He died without making a will, and 
so everything he possessed went to his nephew, 
Rupert Grandin. There was only one thing for 
me to do, for I hadn’t a cent to call my own, and 
that was to go out in the world and make my own 
way. You see, I had lived with Daddy Welling¬ 
ton from the time I was eight years old. My 
father was a dear friend of his son, who died 
years ago, and when both my mother and father 
died, Daddy Wellington took me to live with him. 
He was an old man when I went to him, but I 
grew to love him dearly, in spite of his eccentric¬ 
ities.” Her voice trembled a little, and her lips 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


— 

quivered, but after a brief hesitation she went on, 
“Daddy never legally adopted me, but he always 
said I should have everything he owned when he 
was gone. Then, too, I thought my parents had 
left me money. Five years ago we came here. 
He was failing in health, and his physician 
thought that he would improve up here in the 
mountains. Before that we had only lived here 
in the summer. He did seem better the first win¬ 
ter, but after that he had a great deal of trouble 
and sorrow, and the last three months he lived 
he partially lost his memory. There were days 
and days when everything was an absolute blank 
to him. 

“About a month before he died I found him in 
the library one morning, writing. He seemed so 
like his usual self that I went quietly away with¬ 
out disturbing him. That afternoon, however, he 
had forgotten all about being there. 

“Two days before he left me,” continued Cecil, 
“he tried to tell me something about a letter he 
had written me. Tt is for you,’ he kept saying. 

T put it away where it will be safe. It is in-’ 

but he had forgotten where he had placed it, 
and I was so wrapped up in the grief of 
losing him that I didn’t attach much impor¬ 
tance to it. 




i3 2 


PATSY CARROLL 


“After it was all over, his lawyer, Mr. Ed¬ 
munds, came on from New York and you can 
imagine how I felt when he told me that Daddy 
Wellington had left no will and, therefore, all 
he had belonged to his nephew, Rupert Grandin, 
the child of Daddy’s only sister, who had died 
years ago. It was simply unbelievable. Rupert 
had been very wild. Daddy had helped him out 
of one scrape after another, and the trouble and 
sorrow I have spoken of were caused by his ac¬ 
tions. Daddy had said repeatedly that Rupert 
should never inherit his money, and yet by mak¬ 
ing no will he had left him all. 

“Rupert came on from New York at once and 
both he and Mr. Edmunds, the lawyer, were very 
disagreeable because I refused to believe that 
Daddy had made no provision for me, or that I 
had no money of my own. Rupert virtually or¬ 
dered me out of the house. I had only a little 
money I had saved from the allowance Daddy 
always gave me, so I went to stay with some 
friends here. A little later I went to Albany and 
found a way to earn my own living. Now I am 
dependent upon no one but myself. And now I 
am coming to the real reason for my being here 
to-night. Long after everything had quieted 
down, I remembered the letter Daddy had tried 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


133 


so hard to tell me of. Was there some message 
in it for me, and where had he hidden it? 

“When I left Wilderness Lodge I vowed that 
I would never again enter it while Rupert Gran- 
din lived there, but the more I thought about the 
letter the more I felt that poor Daddy had writ¬ 
ten something important to me. Something it 
was to my interest to know. Finally, I decided 
to write to Mrs. Harding, the housekeeper, and 
tell her I intended to come to the Lodge to look 
for my letter. Then I heard that Rupert had 
gone to Colorado. I was glad to hear that. I 
knew Mrs. Harding would let me go anywhere 
I liked in the house. She had always been fond 
of me. So I didn’t stop to write. I just came 
right along from Albany to the lake. I got here 
late this afternoon and telephoned Mrs. Hard¬ 
ing, but was told she had gone away for a day 
or two.” 

“Yes,” interrupted Beatrice, 4 * she has gone for 
a couple of days’ visit to her daughter. She went 
directly after luncheon this afternoon.” 

44 So the voice on the telephone answered,” re¬ 
plied Cecil. “It was Alice, one of the maids, I 
think. Well, I walked past the Lodge after that 
and was just about ready to go and ask the maid 
for permission to search the library, when I 



134 


PATSY CARROLL 


caught sight of John. He has always been faith¬ 
ful to Rupert’s interests, although I believe he is 
fairly honest and truthful. He and Rupert were 
boys together, and he still clings to his old play¬ 
mate. I knew he would tell Rupert about my 
being here. I didn’t want either of them to know, 
for that matter, so I went away again. Then I 
planned to become a real housebreaker and hunt 
for the missing letter when everyone was asleep. 
You see, I never dreamed of you and your 
friends, or, in fact, anyone other than the ser¬ 
vants, being here. 

“I told only one person, a very old friend, of 
what I intended to do. That person understood 
and wished me luck in my search. He even sup¬ 
plied me with a dark lantern.” She laughed and 
held it up. “All I need is a mask and a pistol 
to make me a first-class robber. Now that you 
know all about me and my midnight mission, will 
you forgive me for being a prowler?” 

“You poor, dear girl,” sympathized Bee, “I 
don’t blame you in the least for being a midnight 
prowler. It all sounds like a chapter from a 
novel, doesn’t it? But the strangest part is yet 
to come.” Beatrice suddenly remembered her 
finding of the letter addressed to “Goldilocks,” 
and put two and two together. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


i 35 


“What do you mean?” asked Cecil Vane 
sharply. 

“I have a great surprise for you,” replied Bea¬ 
trice joyously. “This afternoon I found a let¬ 
ter, and I believe it is yours, although your name 
is not on it.” 

Cecil Vane stared at Beatrice in unbelieving 
amazement. 

“You don’t mean it?” she whispered. “You 
are not really in earnest?” 

“But I am,” answered Bee seriously. “It’s in 
the top drawer of the library table.” 

“It’s not the right one, then,” said Cecil with 
a despondent shake of her head, “for I searched 
that drawer just to please Daddy, when after¬ 
ward he kept talking about the letter. There 
was nothing there.” 

Beatrice crossed the room, opened the drawer 
and took out the letter. “Here it is,” she said, 
handing it to Cecil. “I didn’t find it there in the 
first place. It was in that old copy of Walton’s 
‘Compleat Angler.’ I was looking at the hook, 
and the letter fell out. We didn’t know who 
‘Goldilocks’ was, so we put it in the drawer until 
we should find out.” 

“I might have known it, if I had only stopped 
to think,” murmured Cecil. “It was his favorite 



136 


PATSY CARROLL 


book, and ‘Goldilocks’ was his pet name for me. 
He used to read the ‘Compleat Angler’ by the 
hour. Fishing was his hobby.” 

Her eyes filled with tears as she read the super¬ 
scription, then she opened the envelope and rev¬ 
erently drew out the message from the dead. 
“You found it for me,” she said to Bee, “so I 
wish you to read it, too.” 

The two young girls, so strangely brought to¬ 
gether by chance, sat side by side on the big 
leather davenport, while Cecil read in a voice 
scarcely above a whisper: 

“My Dear Child: 

“My head is singularly clear this morning, and, 
therefore, I can write to you of what is on my 
mind before I slip back into that annoying state 
of forgetfulness that seems to grow blacker every 
day. I know that my time here is short, and so 
before I go I wish you to know that over a year 
ago I made my last will and testament, leaving 
all, with the exception of a few bequests to my 
old servants, to you. To Rupert I have left the 
sum of one thousand dollars. He does not de¬ 
serve it, but it will prevent him from trying to 
break the will, which was drawn up by Arthur 
Edmunds, my lawyer, and duly witnessed and 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


137 


signed during my last stay in New York City. r 
This will has been in my possession since that 
time. If Rupert knew of this he would make my 
last days more miserable than he already has; 
therefore, I have sworn Edmunds to secrecy con¬ 
cerning it, and have hidden it out of sight of Rup¬ 
ert’s prying eyes. You will find it in the old-” 

Here the writing stopped abruptly. 

With a little exclamation of despair, Cecil 
dropped the letter, while she and Beatrice looked 
at each other in silent consternation. 

“He must have addressed the envelope be¬ 
fore he wrote the letter. Then the blackness set¬ 
tled down on him before he finished it,” quivered 
Cecil with a little sob. “Poor, dear Daddy.” She 
buried her face in her hands, crying softly. 

“Don’t give up, Cecil,” encouraged Beatrice, 
patting her shoulder. “You’ve found out a lot 
to-night. You know that there is really a will, 
and that Arthur Edmunds knew it, too. It looks 
as though he and Rupert Grandin are trying to 
cheat you out of your inheritance. We can’t 
accuse them of it yet, of course. What we must 
do is to find that will, and who were the witnesses. 
Then we shall have a clear case against them.” 

Cecil wiped away her tears and looked admir- 




138 


PATSY CARROLL 


ingly at Beatrice. “How splendid you are/’ she 
said. “You are positively inspiring. Won’t you 
tell me about yourself?” 

Bee launched forth with a little sketch of her¬ 
self, her friends and what had brought them to 
Lake Placid. “We call ourselves the Wayfar¬ 
ers,” she concluded, “and we are the best sort 
of comrades. You must let me tell Miss Mar¬ 
tha and the girls about you, for they will all 
be wild at the prospect of a missing will hunt. 
You can trust them, for they are true blue. Come 
to-morrow morning and meet them. Then we’ll 
hold a council of war in the library.” 

“I’ll come,” promised Cecil, her eyes shining, 
“and thank you a thousand times. Now, I must 
go, for it’s awfully late. A most scandalous hour 
to be making calls.” 

The two girls tiptoed softly to the door. There 
was no sound throughout the big house. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” asked Bee. “The clouds 
have mjade the night so dark and there is no 
moon.” 

“Not I,” returned Cecil; “besides, I have com¬ 
pany.” She made a soft little sound, half whis¬ 
tle and half call, and a huge shadowy object rose 
from the lawn and came bounding toward her. 
Bee could not repress a soft exclamation of fear, 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


139 


but Cecil said reassuringly, “Don’t be frightened. 
It’s only my dog. He’s a Great Dane, and 
his name is Hamlet. Isn’t he a beauty? When 
we came here to-night I told him to be quiet, and 
he hasn’t forgotten. He’s as still as a mouse. 
Now, don’t you think him a good bodyguard?” 

“I should say so,” replied Bee. “I should like 
to be friends with him. I love a big dog.” 

“You shall,” promised Cecil. “He’ll like you 
because I’ll tell him you are my friend. And 
now, good night. I’ll see you to-morrow, or 
rather this morning.” 

The two girls shook hands, then Cecil, her 
hand on the dog’s collar, flitted noiselessly down 
the walk, and was soon swallowed up in the dense 
darkness, while Beatrice cautiously closed the 
door, and, tingling with the novelty of her noc¬ 
turnal adventure, stole upstairs to bed. 




CHAPTER XIII 


A DISTINGUISHED FORESTER 

W HEN Beatrice at last opened her eyes 
the sun was shining brilliantly in at the 
window, while Mabel stood gently 
shaking her by the shoulders, and Patsy leaned 
over the foot of the bed, an atomizer of perfume 
aimed full at her face. 

“Don’t sprinkle me with that thing,” Bee pro¬ 
tested. “It’s full of rose toilet water, and I 
loathe the smell of rose perfume.” 

“Arise, then, and come to breakfast,” com¬ 
manded Patsy. “How dare you be so lazy? It’s 
nine o’clock, and we are clamoring to be fed.” 

“Goodness!” ejaculated Bee, springing out 
of bed and making a wild dive for her kimono, “I 
didn’t know it was so late. Go on down to break¬ 
fast. I’ll be there directly. I’ve something mar¬ 
velous to tell you.” 

“Did you dream it?” quizzed Eleanor. 

140 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


141 

“At first I thought I did, but afterward I 
found that it was real enough,” replied Beatrice 
enigmatically. 

“Don’t whet our curiosity to a razor edge,” 
protested Mabel. “Tell us now.” 

“Well-” began Bee. 

“Girls, come down to breakfast at once,” 
called an impatient voice from the foot of the 
stairs. 

“Coming this instant, Aunt Martha,” purred 
Patsy. “Hurry up, Bee,” and Patsy led the way 
downstairs, followed by Mabel and Eleanor, 
while Bee, after performing hasty ablutions, hur¬ 
ried into a one-piece gown of white linen, rolled 
her curls in a huge knot at the top of her head 
and ran down the stairs two at a time. 

“Now, Bee,” ordered Patricia, when breakfast 
was well under way, “begin.” 

Beatrice looked half-deprecatingly toward 
Miss Carroll, then began rather lamely. “Miss 
Martha, you said that night of the hop, when we 
were at Saratoga, that we mustn’t trouble our¬ 
selves about the Edmunds or their private af¬ 
fairs. I hope you won’t be angry, but something 
very strange happened last night, and it has a lit¬ 
tle to do with the Edmunds.” 

Miss Martha sat up very straight and eyed 




142 


PATSY CARROLL 


Beatrice with distinct disapproval. “Tell me at 
once what happened/’ she said severely. “I 
might have known you girls would get into mis¬ 
chief/’ 

Beatrice flushed painfully. “It is only I that 
has got into mischief/’ was her brave reply. Then 
she plunged into the account of her midnight visi¬ 
tor. The three girls, and even Miss Martha, lis¬ 
tened with intense interest. To Bee’s surprise, 
the latter’s disapproval vanished and she nodded 
graciously when Bee told of her promise to help 
Cecil Vane recover her inheritance. 

“Talk about story books,” laughed Patricia 
when Bee had finished; “this bit of real life is 
miles ahead of popular fiction. We’ll turn that 
library inside out to find the last will and testa¬ 
ment of Ebenezer Wellington.” 

“I hope Miss Vane doesn’t disappoint us by 
not coming this morning,” interposed Eleanor. 
“Mabel, you’ve finished your breakfast. I, there¬ 
fore, appoint you as an especial committee of one 
to go to the veranda on a scouting expedition. 
The minute our heroine approaches, fly back and 
tell us.” 

“All right,” answered Mabel good-naturedly, 
and went out to the veranda to take up her watch. 
Ten minutes later, as the others were about to 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


143 


rise from the table, she rushed into their midst 
with the news that Cecil Vane was approaching 
with a dog as large as a lion. 

“That’s Hamlet,” observed Bee. “Shall we 
go to the porch in a body to welcome Cecil?” 

“By all means, children,” said Miss Martha 
emphatically. “From all I hear of her, I con¬ 
sider her a very intrepid young woman.” 

Patsy gave Beatrice a surreptitious poke in the 
ribs that caused Bee to smile broadly. Miss Mar¬ 
tha had quite forgotten her strenuous commands 
to them to keep their fingers out of the Edmunds’ 
pies. 

“Good morning,” called Beatrice, as Cecil 
Vane came quickly up the walk, the Great Dane 
at her side. 

“Good morning,” answered Cecil, coloring 
slightly under the scrutiny of so many eyes. 
Then, issuing a low command to the dog, who 
halted and sat calmly down in his tracks, she 
mounted the steps and held out her hand to Bee. 
Introductions followed rapidly. In a few mo¬ 
ments Cecil’s slight constraint had completely 
worn off, and she talked and laughed merrily 
with her new friends. 

“How would you like to go for a walk with 
me, this beautiful morning?” she asked after a 



144 


PATSY CARROLL 


time. “I wish to introduce you to a very old 
friend of mine, who seems almost like a part of 
the forest itself. He has a little log house of his 
own back in the woods, about two miles from 
here, and I can assure you he is well worth meet¬ 
ing*” 

“We’d love to go!” exclaimed Patsy. “May 
we, Aunt Martha?” 

“I have no objection,” replied Miss Martha. 
“Provided it is perfectly safe. I wouldn’t think 
of walking two miles this warm morning.” 

“With Hamlet we are safe anywhere,” smiled 
Cecil, “although he is as harmless as a puppy 
with those he loves.” 

“Be sure and be back in time for luncheon, 
girls,” Miss Carroll stipulated. “You know we 
rather expect Mrs. Parks and Hal to-day. Can 
you not lunch with us, Miss Vane?” 

“Thank you, I am afraid not to-day. Some 
other day I should be delighted,” returned 
Cecil. 

“We’ll be on time,” assured Patsy, and after 
Cecil had exchanged a few words of courteous 
farewell with Miss Martha and had been cordi¬ 
ally invited to come again, the five girls set out 
for the old hunter’s cabin. 

“Before we go any further, I must tell you 





AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


i 45 


that the old man on whom we are going to make 
a call is very peculiar. His name—laugh now, 
rather than later—is Mercutio Macbeth Merri- 
field, and I can assure you he is very proud of 
it.” 

“What a ridiculous name!” said Patsy. 
“Where did he dig it up?” 

“It was dug up for him by his father, who was 
a Shakespearian actor. Mercutio Macbeth was 
destined for wonderful stage triumphs, but be¬ 
fore he ever reached the star dressing-room, he 
developed a frightful case of asthma and had to 
be packed off up here to the mountains. After 
two years he went back, cured as he hoped; but 
his old trouble returned, so he took to the woods 
for good and all. He has camped about in these 
mountains for over forty years, and is consid¬ 
ered the best guide around here. We are lucky 
to catch him at home. I heard yesterday that he 
had just returned from a two weeks’ hunting 
trip, so I went to see him at once, and promised 
to go over again to-day. He is going away again 
to-morrow to be gone for a week. He has taken 
care of Hamlet for me ever since I left Wilder¬ 
ness Lodge.” 

“Perhaps he won’t be pleased to see us,” depre¬ 
cated Mabel. 



146 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Oh, yes, he will,” returned Cecil. “He is sure 
to like you, particularly if you take him se¬ 
riously. He recites poetry by the yard, and talks 
in blank verse half the time. For that reason you 
must be careful about laughing at him. Once you 
become better acquainted with him you won’t 
think about his peculiarities, for he’s a dear old 
soul with a heart as big as all outdoors.” 

The trail to Mercutio Macbeth Merrifield’s 
cabin led straight up through a woodland of pine 
and balsam. The air was permeated with the 
spicy fragrance of these sturdy denizens of the 
forest, and as the path grew steeper, the girls be¬ 
came more keenly alive to the silent grandeur of 
the wilderness that lay about them. 

“How I should love to pitch my tent out here 
and live for a while,” said Mabel, who was an en¬ 
thusiastic little forest worshiper. 

“ ‘This is the forest primeval,’ ” quoted Elea¬ 
nor, softly. “I do hope Miss Martha will allow 
us to make a camp in the forest, if only for a 
day.” 

“Just wait until I get back to Wilderness 
Lodge,” announced Patsy confidently. “I’ll give 
her no peace until she consents.” 

“Doesn’t Miss Carroll wish you to go camp¬ 
ing?” asked Cecil rather curiously. “Everyone 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


147 


who comes here makes at least one excursion into 
the wild.” 

“She is very much against it,” replied Patsy, 
“but she has been known to change her mind. 
Aunt Martha doesn’t like roughing it, but if we 
could only get her out here once, she’d stay for¬ 
ever.” 

“Well, I hope she changes her mind,” said 
Cecil. “There are so many places to go. You 
must surely do the Mount Whiteface stunt. That 
is a favorite climb with tourists. Once at the top 
one can see the spires of Montreal, that is, if the 
day is clear. Mount Marcy is another peak 
worth climbing. It is a ten-mile walk to the top 
over the most picturesque old Indian trail you 
ever saw.” 

“Don’t worry. We’ll get there yet,” predicted 
Patsy, with supreme confidence. “Leave me to 
manage Miss Martha Carroll.” 

“There is the residence of our poetic forester,” 
laughed Cecil, pointing up the hillside to where, 
back among a thick clump of pine, stood a sturdy 
little log cabin. “Summon all your dignity and 
you’ll make a good impression. There is Mer- 
cutio Macbeth in the door now.” 

Hamlet, who had been crashing ahead through 
the underbrush, bayed loudly and advanced upon 




148 


PATSY CARROLL 


the tall figure in the door with leaps of frenzied 

joy- 

“Hamlet adores Mr. Merrifield,” exclaimed 
Cecil. “He named him Hamlet and gave him to 
me when a puppy. I could never have endured 
leaving him with anyone else.” 

The old hunter was by this time fondling the 
dog, who laid his great muzzle in the hand out¬ 
stretched to him and growled out of sheer hap¬ 
piness. 

“Good morning, Mr. Merrifield,” called Cecil 
gaily. “You see I have kept my appointment, 
and I have also brought you visitors.” 

The old woodsman drew his lean, sinewy body 
up till he towered like a tree above his visitors, 
and, placing his hand over his heart, bowed pro¬ 
foundly. 

“Fair ladies,” he rumbled in deep chest tones, 
“I bid you good morrow.” 




CHAPTER XIV 


MERCUTIO RISES TO THE OCCASION 

S Cecil had predicted, the girls were seized 



with the desire to give way to uncontrol* 


able mirth, but a warning glance from 
Cecil helped them to preserve proper dignity, and 
they returned their host’s elaborate salutation 
with grave politeness. 

The old man’s dark, piercing eyes gleamed ap¬ 
proval under his shaggy brows. 

“ £ ’Tis well,’ ” he recited. “I bid you welcome 
to my humble cot.” 

“Mr. Merrifield,” explained Cecil, “these 
young ladies are staying at my old home for a 
time. They have leased it for the summer. They 
know all about me, and they are going to help 
my cause along. I want you to like them very 
much, for they are my dear friends, and love the 
woods and hills as well as I do.” 


149 


PATSY CARROLL 


“ ‘To him who in the love of Nature 
Holds communion with her visible forms. 
She speaks a various language,’ ” 

chanted the guide, fixing his eye on Mabel. 

“Just exactly,” agreed Cecil hurriedly, seeing 
that Mabel was on the verge of giggling. “Will 
you show the girls some of the wonderful things 
in your cabin?” 

“To be sure,” replied the guide, waving them 
toward the open door. “Enter, I pray you. I 
am, indeed, honored.” 

Headed by Cecil, the party entered the hunt¬ 
er’s big living-room, and looked about with eager 
interest. A huge fireplace took up nearly a whole 
side of the room, while in one corner was a bed 
of fragrant balsam boughs. On the floor were 
thrown several handsome deer and bear skins, 
while the walls were lined with all sorts of troph¬ 
ies of the woods. 

“This is really the most interesting room I 
have ever seen, Mr. Merrifield,” exclaimed Bea¬ 
trice. “I suppose everything here has some bit 
of woodland history attached to it.” 

“Mr. Merrifield can tell some fine hunting 
yarns,” interposed Cecil. “He has probably 
stalked more bears and deer than anyone else in 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


151 


this region. Mr. Merrifield,” she continued, 
turning to the guide, “if we were to get up a 
camping party would you act as our guide?” 

“You have but to command me,” was the 
stately answer. “After I return from the expe¬ 
dition that starts to-night, I shall hold myself 
in readiness to conduct you whither your fancy 
may lead. 

“ ‘To roam the woods that crown 

The upland, where the mingled splendors 
glow, 

Where the gay company of trees look down 
On the green field below.’ ” 

he quoted, striking an attitude. 

“That is very beautiful,” said Beatrice gently, 
“Bryant wrote it, didn’t he?” 

“He did, indeed,” returned the guide with an 
approving glance at Beatrice. “It is really re¬ 
freshing to find a young woman who is not only 
familiar with the poets but who can appreciate 
their tributes to the forest.” 

“I love the woods,” smiled Beatrice, “perhaps 
that is why I remembered those lines to the for¬ 
est.” 

Mercutio Macbeth Merrifield raised his hand 
and invoked majestically: 




152 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Thou forest, broad and sweeping, 

Fair work of Nature’s God, 

Of all my joy and weeping, 

The consecrate abode. 

Yon world-” 

But the spell was suddenly broken by a hurry 
of footsteps and a man strode through the door, 
looking neither to the right nor left, and straight 
up to the guide. 

“See here,” began the newcomer rudely, “have 
you engaged to take a party out to-night?” 

“I have,” replied the old man, glaring angrily 
at the man who had dared to interrupt his poetic 
outburst. 

“So I was told,” snapped the intruder. “Now, 
I have some friends who wish to engage you who 
are of a great deal more importance than these 
people you’ve promised. Therefore, you go 
around to this other crowd and tell them they’ll 
either have to give up going or get another guide, 
for you are engaged to go with us. Now, you’d 
better get on the job right now, for we are going 
to be all ready by six o’clock to-night.” 

The old hunter stood silent, regarding his un¬ 
welcome visitor with half-shut eyes, while the 
Wayfarers exchanged indignant glances. But 

























































AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


153 


Cecil Vane, with set face and compressed lips, 
stepped over to the old man and said: “Mr. Mer- 
rifield, I am sure you will have nothing to say to 
this man. You know that he is Rupert Grandin, 
the man who has turned me out of my old 
home.” 

Grandin turned to Cecil, a mocking smile on 
his lips. “Oh, it’s you,” he sneered. “How do 
you like hustling for a living since you haven’t 
the soft snap that you held down for so long? 
Too bad that old fool didn’t make a will, wasn’t 
it? You would have liked to see me go down and 
out, wouldn’t you?” 

Cecil’s eyes blazed a volume of scorn and con¬ 
tempt at Grandin, but before she had time to an¬ 
swer, Mercutio Macbeth Merrifield had seized the 
offender in an iron grip, and half shoving, half 
carrying him to the door, swung him back and 
forth until he had gained sufficient momentum, 
then, with one final sweep, he let go, and the luck¬ 
less Grandin fairly skimmed over the ground, 
landing in a heap some distance from the cabin. 
With an inarticulate exclamation of black rage 
he rose, sorely shaken, and with clenched fists 
half started toward the cabin. One look at the 
old guide, standing stern and invincible in the 
doorway, decided him. Shaking his fist at the 



154 


PATSY CARROLL 


cabin and its occupants, he limped down the trail 
and disappeared from view. 

“I hardly believe that villain will beard Mer- 
cutio Macbeth Merrifield again,” remarked the 
old guide grimly as he turned to his guests. 

“Mr. Merrifield, it was splendid in you to de¬ 
fend me.” Cecil Vane’s voice trembled with emo¬ 
tion. 

“ ’Twas the duty of a man,” boomed the guide. 
“ ‘Breathes there a man with soul so dead’ that 
he would not come to the rescue of a lady in dis¬ 
tress?” he ended whimsically. 

“You certainly played the part of a staunch 
defender,” was Patsy’s tribute. 

“I thank you.” Mercutio bowed low. “But 
let us forget yon varlet and speak of more 
seemly matters. I shall look forward to the day 
when I may lead you into pastures new.” 

“And we shall look forward to it, too,” nodded 
Patsy. 

The conversation now turned to the all-absorb¬ 
ing topic of the proposed expedition into the for¬ 
est, and the five girls spent a happy half hour 
with the old guide. Then Cecil reminded them 
of Miss Martha’s injunction to return in time 
for luncheon. 

The old hunter bade the Wayfarers an im- 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


111 

pressive farewell, inviting them to come again 
when he returned from his week’s trip. 

“You won’t fail us, if we organize our camp¬ 
ing party?” asked Patsy, anxiously, as they were 
leaving. “We simply couldn’t bear to engage 
anyone else.” 

“ ‘Doubt that the stars are tire; 

Doubt that the sun doth move; 

Doubt truth to be a liar.’ ” 

“But never doubt I—shall fail your expedi¬ 
tion,” finished Mercutio, a broad smile illuminat¬ 
ing his weather-beaten face. 



CHAPTER XV 


WHAT BEATRICE OVERHEARD 

“ "yr THAT a perfect old dear Mercutio 
\/\/ Macbeth Merrifield is!” exclaimed 
* * Patricia, as the five girls clambered 
down the steep trail. 

“Yes; and what a hateful man that horrid Ru¬ 
pert Grandin is,” declared Mabel. “I suppose 
he’ll never forgive us for being witnesses to his 
journey through the air.” She laughed aloud at 
the recollection. 

“It served him right after the way he talked 
to Cecil,” asserted Beatrice. “I don’t blame you, 
Cecil, for despising him.” 

“He is a treacherous, cruel man,” was Cecil’s 
vehement denunciation. “I am sure that he 
knows about the will that Mr. Edmunds drew up 
for Daddy. Mr. Edmunds said over and over 
again to me that he knew of no will except the 
one in favor of Rupert. This letter, however. 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


'51 


proves that such a will was made. I know Daddy 
wouldn’t forget me, and I’m sure he made an¬ 
other will and hid it away in Wilderness Lodge. 
It’s there, and I know it’s there.” 

Bee, who had been walking with bent head, lis¬ 
tening to, and weighing, Cecil’s words, glanced 
up in a half-startled way. She saw herself 
crouching low in a canoe, hidden away under 
close green foliage. Again she heard the dip, 
dip of paddles and the harsh voices of two men. 
She heard one upbraiding the other for some 
fault of which she could not know the cause. She 
heard someone referred to as “she” and “a sly 
little trickster.” There was a fear expressed 
that “she” might meet “certain persons” and 
then came the words, “It’s there, and she knows 
it’s there,” as the canoe swept on past her hiding- 
place. 

“Oh, Cecil! Oh, girls! I’ve just thought of 
something!” In a few graphic words she gave 
them the gist of what she had overheard in the 
canoe. 

As Beatrice’s recital progressed, Cecil’s eyes 
had become more intently riveted upon her. Pa¬ 
tricia, Eleanor and Mabel looked interested, but 
mystified. For them the conversation of the 
strangers held no particular significance. 




i 5 8 


PATSY CARROLL 


“You are right!” exclaimed Cecil. “They 
haven’t found it. I understand it all.” 

“So do I,” exclaimed Patsy, suddenly coming 
into a complete understanding of the situation. 
“Of course we are going to find it. The Way¬ 
farers will never give up until that troublesome 
old document is in your hands. We have every 
chance of finding it. Our lease is still good for 
more than two months, and we are sure to dig it 
up from its secret hiding-place long before that. 
I’ll tell you what would be splendid, Cecil. Why 
couldn’t you come up here and live with us at 
the Lodge? You know every stick and stone 
about the place. You could lead the hunt and 
we could help you.” 

“I’d love to come up to the Lodge to live with 
you girls for a little while,” declared Cecil, col¬ 
oring with pleasure at Patsy’s impetuous prefer¬ 
ence for her society, “but it wouldn’t be possible 
for me to do so. I am a working girl now, and I 
couldn’t afford to give up my position on the 
newspaper I’m with. I’ll tell you what I will do, 
though. My vacation comes the last two weeks 
of August. If you feel that you’d really like to 
have me. I’ll spend it with you. That is, if you 
think your aunt will approve of my coming.” 

“Oh, goody!” cried Patricia. “Will she ap- 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


i59 


prove? She certainly will. She likes you al¬ 
ready. I watched her this morning when she was 
talking to you. Leave it to me to know the signs 
when Auntie is pleased or displeased. We might 
arrange to have our camping trip then. It will 
fake almost all summer to persuade Auntie that 
it’s proper and safe for a number of young per¬ 
sons like us to blaze a trail into the wilds. Just 
consider it’s all fixed for the last of August.” 

“But suppose the will isn’t found before timje 
to go camping?” questioned Eleanor. “In that 
case we couldn’t go camping. We wouldn’t dare 
leave the Lodge for fear this Mr. Grandin would 
come back to it and hunt for the will all the time 
we were gone.” 

“Oh, Aunt Martha will be there,” returned 
Patsy confidently. “Don’t you remember she 
said that nothing could induce her to go on a 
j aunt into the woods ?” 

“Then we can’t go either,” was Mabel’s calm 
remark, “for she will never, never let us go camp¬ 
ing without her—or with her, for that matter.” 

“We will go!” was Patricia’s emphatic declara¬ 
tion. “I’ve made up my mind to fit out an expe¬ 
dition into the wilderness with Mercutio Macbeth 
Merrifield at the head of it. We’ll go if I have 
to send for Dad to come and take us.” 




CHAPTER XVI 


DEFEAT AND VICTORY 

I N spite of Patsy’s confident prediction that 
they would find a way to arrange to go camp¬ 
ing, she was destined to meet with an oppo¬ 
sition on the part of her aunt quite as sturdy as 
was her own resolve to make the trip into the 
woods. Cecil Vane said good-bye to the Way¬ 
farers before they reached the Lodge. She had 
decided to take the early afternoon train to Al¬ 
bany and remained firm in her intention, though 
Patricia was insistent in her invitation that their 
new friend stay to luncheon. 

“Now, children, just leave this little matter of 
going camping to me,” Patricia patted her chest 
with mock pomposity. The four girls were hur¬ 
rying up the drive to the Lodge, bent on being 
in time for luncheon. “I’ll make Aunt Martha 
see that such a step is necessary to our health and 
happiness.” 


160 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 161 


At luncheon Patsy began her campaign by 
praising the independent fearlessness of Cecil 
Vane and describing in glowing colors their de¬ 
lightful walk to the hut of the old hunter. She 
dwelt also on the many trophies of the woods 
which they had seen in his cabin and of how 
greatly in demand were Mercutio Macbeth Mer- 
rifield’s services as a guide. 

“He isn’t a bit like the most of the guides up 
here, Auntie,” she praised enthusiastically. 
“There is something really grand and majestic 
about him. He’s like a part of the forest itself. 
Cecil says he is considered the best guide in this 
region. She and her foster father, Mr. Welling¬ 
ton, have gone on camping trips with him ever 
since she was a little girl, and not the slightest 
harm ever came to them. He is very fond of 
Cecil. He has taken care of her big dog Hamlet 
for her since she went to Albany to work. He 
gave Hamlet to Cecil when that splendid big 
dog was a little tiny puppy. Cecil told him how 
nice we had been to her, and he said that when¬ 
ever we were ready to take a trip into the woods 
he would be only too glad to be our guide. 
Wasn’t that sweet in him?” Patsy turned guile¬ 
less eyes toward her aunt as she finished with this 
apparent innocent question. 




162 


PATSY CARROLL 


But Miss Martha Carroll was wise in her own 
generation and not to be caught napping. She 
had ideas of her own concerning trail-making 
which she was not disposed to change. “I dare 
say he is a very worthy person,” she made digni¬ 
fied answer, “but we won’t need his services, for 
I shall not allow you girls to make any harum- 
scarum jaunts into the woods without me. And 
nothing could drag me off on such an expedi¬ 
tion.” She set her mouth into lines of decision 
that Patricia recognized to mean unalterable de¬ 
cree. 

Mabel shot a mildly triumphant glance from 
one to the other of the girls. Her “croaking” 
had proved true enough. 

“Now, Auntie,” began Patsy in her most hon¬ 
eyed tones, “you don’t really mean that. You 
know-” 

“I know that you can’t go, and that settles it. 
I also know that it is most unbecoming in a young 
girl to tell her aunt that she doesn’t mean what 
she says. I am surprised at you, Patricia.” Miss 
Martha looked the picture of offended dignity. 

Patricia had not been spoiled by her father and 
aunt during her sixteen years of life for nothing. 
Consequently, she did the worst possible thing 
under the circumstances—she lost her temper. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


—L 

“You are too provoking, Aunt Martha,” she 
flung back rudely, her cheeks red, her eyes flash¬ 
ing. “You know perfectly well how anxious we 
are to go camping, and that it wouldn’t hurt us 
one bit to go, or you either. Once you get out in 
the woods you’d love them just as we girls do. 
What is the use of coming up to this glorious 
wilderness for a vacation if we can’t set foot in 
it? But I’m not going to be cheated out of my 
trip. I’m going to write to Father this very day 
and ask him to come up here and go camping with 
us.” Tears of angry disappointment stood in 
Patricia’s eyes as she made this defiant declara¬ 
tion. 

“Patricia Carroll, leave the table, and go to 
your room,” commanded Miss Martha in awful 
tones. “You may remain there until I allow 
you to leave it. I will not tolerate such impu¬ 
dence even from my own niece. I will write 
to your father, to-day, that we are going home 
the last of this week by railway. The automobile 
can be shipped home later. When a little girl 
like you undertakes to over-ride the authority of 
those who know best, it is high time something 
was done about it.” 

For a moment Patricia sat as though defiant 
of her aunt’s command. Then with a disdainful 



164 


PATSY CARROLL 


shrug of her shoulders she rose from her chair. 
“I’m going to write to Father just the same/’ 
she reiterated. Then she left the dining-room. 

The ringing of the electric hell, then the en¬ 
trance into the dining-room of the maid with, “A 
gentleman to see you, Miss Carroll,” broke up the 
unhappy luncheon. 

As Miss Martha Carroll advanced into the liv¬ 
ing-room, a tall figure in a gray suit rose to meet 
her. One glance at him and she recognized the 
thin, disagreeable face of Rupert Grandin. 

“Miss Carroll, I believe.” He spoke in cold, 
supercilious fashion. “I am Rupert Grandin.” 

Miss Martha acknowledged this statement with 
the faintest inclination of her head. 

“I came to see you in regard to your lease of 
Wilderness Lodge. Circumstances have arisen 
which make it absolutely necessary for me to re¬ 
turn to the Lodge. I made a serious mistake in 
leasing this property and, therefore, I am going 
to ask you to vacate at the end of this month. 
The money paid for the lease will be returned. I 
regret that it is necessary to do this. I hope it 
will not cause you serious inconvenience. How¬ 
ever, you can find suitable accommodations at 
one of the hotels, I dare say.” 

He spoke as though the matter were already 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 165 

settled, but he had reckoned without his host. 
Miss Martha was in no mood to he thus easily 
disposed of. Her quarrel with Patricia had ruf¬ 
fled her feelings, and the Carroll temper had 
risen. Grandin’s cool proposal merely added fuel 
to the flame. She fixed the audacious Rupert 
with a freezing glance. 

“You are the man who left us to get help as 
best we could on our way to Lake Placid,” she 
arraigned. “I am not surprised that you wish 
to turn us out of the Lodge, which is lawfully 
ours until the first of October. But allow me to 
tell you that we are not going to move one foot 
off these premises until our lease has expired.” 

“Oh, you aren’t?” sneered Grandin. “We’ll 
see about that. The law will uphold my rights. 
I might have known better than to trouble my¬ 
self to talk to a woman about it. I’ll set my law¬ 
yer, Mr. Edmunds, to work on the case and we’ll 
see how long you’ll stay here.” 

“Do so,” challenged Miss Martha, scornfully. 
“I will notify my brother, Robert Carroll, who 
made all arrangements for us. His lawyer will 
no doubt be glad to take up the matter with Mr. 
Edmunds. As for us, we are well pleased with 
our surroundings and do not intend to allow our¬ 
selves to be disturbed by any annoying persons. 




166 


PATSY CARROLL 


Good day, JVfr. Grandin.” Miss Martha rose, 
signifying the interview was at an end. Grandin 
rose also, his face pale with rage. He had antici¬ 
pated an easy victory. Instead, he had been 
routed ignominiously. “I’ll turn you out of 
here,” he threatened. “I’ll find a way to do i .” 
Then he fairly rushed out of the house and down 
the steps. 

“Just try it,” challenged the intrepid Miss Car- 
roll from the doorway of the Lodge. 

Upstairs, Patsy was writing a tearful letter to 
her father begging that she should not be sent 
home, little knowing that Rupert Grandin had, 
for once, unwittingly done her a good turn. 




CHAPTER XVII 


PATSY S BRILLIANT IDEA 


ATRICIA’S letter to her father was des¬ 



tined never to be finished, for as she sat 


writing a step sounded outside in the hall. 
It was followed by a knock on the door. “Come 
in,” called Patsy, a little mournfully. Her anger 
had abated, and she was beginning to feel rather 
conscience-stricken over her sudden flash of tem¬ 


per. 


The door opened, and Miss Martha walked se¬ 
dately in. 

“Oh, Aunt Martha! Really, I’m awfully 
sorry!” Patsy sprang penitently forward. 

Miss Martha’s dignity vanished as she cuddled 
her niece in her arms. “I am sorry it happened, 
too,” she added. Then, catching sight of the let¬ 
ter, “My dear, you need not write to your father. 
I have decided to stay at Wilderness Lodge until 
our lease expires.” 


167 


168 


PATSY CARROLL 


Patsy listened in growing amazement. When 
her aunt had finished with the recital against Ru¬ 
pert Grandin she said soberly: “I’ll tell you some¬ 
thing, Aunt Martha, that happened to-day when 
we were at the old hunter’s cabin in the woods. 
I hadn’t intended to say anything about it, be¬ 
cause I was afraid you might be worried over it, 
but I’m sure you ought to know. It’s about this 
horrid Rupert Grandin. We met him at Mr. 
Merrifield’s hut this morning. He came there to 
hire Mr. Merrifield as a guide for a hunting expe¬ 
dition into the woods. When he saw Cecil he 
began to make the most sneering kind of re¬ 
marks to her. He taunted her about being turned 
out of Wilderness Lodge, and asked her how she 
liked hustling for her living. That made Mr. 
Merrifield perfectly furious. He took a firm 
hold of Mr. Rupert Grandin and actually threw 
him down the little slope below the cabin. My, 
but he was mad! He looked too funny for any¬ 
thing flying through the air.” Patsy giggled at 
the recollection, but Miss Martha looked grim¬ 
mer than ever. “He picked himself up and shook 
his fist at Mr. Merrifield, and at us, because we 
laughed. He said that Mr. Merrifield would be 
sorry, but that only made that splendid old 
hunter laugh.” 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


169 


“He seems to be very fond of threatening peo¬ 
ple in general,” remarked Miss Martha. 
“Really, Patricia, the rascal ought to be arrested 
or at least have a man like your father to deal 
with. I think I had better write Robert to come 
up here if only to dispose of this obnoxious per¬ 
son.” 

“I wish you would. Auntie,” responded Patsy 
fervently. With her father on the scene wily 
Patsy knew that there would be a very fine 
chance of winning her point and going camping. 

“I must tell you something else, too. Aunt 
Martha.” Patricia launched forth into an ac¬ 
count of the conversation Beatrice had overheard, 
and the way in which she had established the 
proof that Rupert Grandin and Edmunds, his 
lawyer, had betrayed their knowledge that 
Ebenezer Wellington’s will was hidden some¬ 
where about Wilderness Lodge. 

“You fairly take my breath!” was her aunt’s 
exclamation when Patsy had finished her recital. 
“Beatrice is a most observing girl. She may be 
right. Dear me; I came here to rest and recup¬ 
erate and instead you children are determined to 
drag me into all sorts of improbable schemes.” 
Miss Martha’s words were intended to convey the 
idea that she was greatly shocked, but there was 



170 


PATSY CARROLL 


a glint of excitement in her eyes that belied her 
disapproval. 

“Now, Auntie, you know you adore myster¬ 
ies,” cajoled Patricia. “What could be more ex¬ 
citing than to know that in the very house one 
lives is a document that will restore to the right¬ 
ful heiress her own property and foil the villain?” 
Patricia grew dramatic on the last words, and 
striking a stiff attitude said in as deep a voice as 
she could muster, “Villain, you are unmasked. 
Give me the papers.” 

“You are a ridiculous child,’ said her aunt, 
smiling in spite of herself. “Putting all levity 
aside, I don’t like the idea of this Rupert Gran- 
din hovering about the Lodge. Your father will 
stand no nonsense from him, and I shall not feel 
at ease again until Robert arrives. I should 
hardly care to waken in the middle of the night 
to find this man prowling about the premises 
hunting for the lost will. Why doesn’t Miss 
Vane have these two men arrested?” 

“Because one of them is Mr. Barry Edmunds’ 
father. Even if that weren’t the case, she can’t 
prove that there is really a will until she holds 
it in her own hands. Mr. Wellington was queer 
and forgetful just before he died. Mr. Edmunds 
could easily say he was insane. The letter would 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 171 

seem to prove it, too. Very likely he has de¬ 
stroyed his copy of the will by this time and paid 
the witnesses to keep quiet about it. Cecil hasn’t 
the slightest ghost of a show unless she finds 
it.” 

“Then I am more determined than ever not to 
be away from this house over night and give these 
two rascals the slightest opportunity to ransack 
it. I don’t trust that John, either.” 

“Nor I,” agreed Patsy. “Bee says he knows 
where the big canoe is.” 

“Perhaps this man Grandin stole it.” Miss 
Martha was now ready to lay any crime at the 
door of the man who had twice been rude to her. 
His lack of respect toward so important a person 
as herself rankled still. 

“Why, Aunt Martha! You are a regular 
Sherlock Holmes!” Patsy cried out excitedly. 
“You’ve solved the canoe mystery. Why didn’t 
we think of it before? That explains the light 
Bee saw in the boathouse, and the funny way 
John acted.” 

“I am usually correct in my conclusions,” de¬ 
clared Miss Martha, with the air of one who 
could solve mysteries offhand. Her remark had 
been purely an idle guess, but she did not in¬ 
tend to let her admiring niece know it. 



172 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Just wait until I tell Bee. Won’t she be 
surprised. I’m going to-” 

A knock on the door halted Patricia’s half- 
spoken intention. 

“Come in,” called Miss Martha. 

Mabel entered rather hesitatingly. She knew 
Miss Martha was closeted with Patricia, and she 
was fearful of intruding. 

“Mr. Carroll, Mr. Parks and his mother are 
downstairs in the living-room. They drove over 
from Singing Pines to call on you, Miss Martha. 
We were on the veranda when they came. That’s 
why you didn’t hear the bell. Then, too, they 
left their car down below the Lodge.” 

Miss Martha rose from her chair in a hurry. 
“Run downstairs, like a good child, and tell them 
I’ll join them directly. Patricia, you are com¬ 
ing down, too, are you not?” She paused, her 
hand on the door. 

“Oh, yes,” Patsy gazed after her aunt’s rap¬ 
idly vanishing back, then she said: “All’s right 
with the world, Mab. Patsy’s little world, I 
mean.” 

“I’m so glad, dear.” Mabel gave her chum a 
vigorous hug. “You don’t know how dreadful 
we three girls felt.” 

“I lost my temper,” was Patsy’s rueful ad- 





AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


i 73 


mission. “It’s all right now, though. I told 
Auntie I was sorry, and she forgave me.” 

“Miss Martha’s a dear, even if she won’t go 
camping,” returned Mabel. “We heard every 
word that Grandin man said to her. We were 
on the veranda mourning for you, and the win¬ 
dows were wide open.” 

“Aunt Martha’s going to stay here until the 
very last minute,” was Patsy’s jubilant informa¬ 
tion, “and she’s going to write Dad to come up 
here, too. Don’t breathe it, but when he comes 
there’s a strong possibility that we’ll go camp¬ 
ing.” 

“Oh, I hope so. I’m crazy to go and so are the 
girls. Good gracious! I forgot to hurry down¬ 
stairs to the guests with the news that Miss Mar¬ 
tha is on the way. A nice herald I’d make.” 

Mabel disappeared very suddenly. 

Patricia was not slow to follow after. With a 
hasty ruffling of her curly hair and a dab of pow¬ 
der on her nose she tripped downstairs to the liv¬ 
ing-room to meet Mrs. Parks. 

She fell promptly in love with her at first 
sight. Harold Parks’ mother was a tall, dark 
woman with a sweet, laughing face that had 
something boyish about it. There was an air of 
freedom and independence about her that made 




174 


PATSY CARROLL 


Patricia think of the woods and the great out¬ 
doors. 

“Oh, Mrs. Parks,” she exclaimed, almost the 
instant that she had been introduced, “don’t you 
love the woods? I just can’t help feeling that 
you do!” 

“I am a woodsman’s daughter,” smiled Mrs. 
Parks. “Don’t you think that I ought to love 
the forest?” 

“I was sure you did,” returned Patsy eagerly. 
“You must know all the trails into the forests in 
this region.” 

“Oh, yes. We usually make at least one ex¬ 
pedition into the forest during the summer, and 
I play guide. Sometimes we engage an old 
hunter named Merrifield to go with us. He is a 
quaint person; really a curiosity. I must take 
you to call on him.” 

“Oh, we’ve already been there,” Patsy made 
quick reply. Then she went on to relate how 
Cecil Vane had taken them to call on the guide. 

“Cecil is a delightful girl,” smiled Mrs. Parks. 
“We were very sorry to lose her from our circle. 
There are a few families up here who have been 
on very friendly terms for years. The late Mr. 
Wellington was greatly liked by all who knew 
him.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


i75 


It was on Patricia’s tongue to observe that the 
same state of liking could hardly exist toward 
his nephew, but she held her peace. A brilliant 
idea had just flashed across her fertile young 
brain. Why not wait until she knew the Parks 
a little better, then enlist Mrs. Parks in her cause? 
Then Aunt Martha could stay at the Lodge and 
keep away intruders while they blazed trails into 
the wilderness. Of course, there was the possibil¬ 
ity that her scheme might fail. Already the 
Parks family might have made other plans for 
the summer. Again, her aunt might refuse to 
remain alone at the Lodge. Still there was now 
a glimmer of hope to offset the soreness of the 
recent defeat of her cherished plan, and Patsy 
secretly resolved that Mrs. Parks should be the 
medium by which that faint hope would be real¬ 
ized. 




CHAPTER XVIII 


A STANCH ALLY 

A LTHOUGH the project of going camp¬ 
ing lay very near to Patricia’s heart, there 
was still another subject over which she 
and her three friends had frequent discussion, 
and that subject was the whereabouts of the miss¬ 
ing will. Three of the four girls were quite de¬ 
cided upon one thing—the will was not concealed 
in any nook or corner of the library, but Beatrice 
was not so sure of this. At first she had shared 
the girls’ belief that the hidden document was 
anywhere except in the room where old Ebenezer 
Wellington had spent so much of his time, but 
later, one rainy morning when she was curled up 
in a big easy chair in the library, a volume of 
Poe’s tales in her hands, she chanced to read 
“The Purloined Letter,” a story in which the 
author endeavors to prove that things easiest hid¬ 
den are safest hidden. This had given Beatrice 

176 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


177 


a curious idea that perhaps, after all, the will 
was in the library. 

“But it can’t be,” argued Patricia. “If it had 
been that old Rupert Grandin would have found 
it when he and Mr. Edmunds were here and 
hunted for it.” 

“But we know that they didn’t find it,” re¬ 
minded Beatrice, “and perhaps the reason they 
didn’t was because it was put in such an easy 
place, they never thought of looking there. In 
this story of Poe’s the letter was almost in plain 
sight and no one paid any attention to it.” 

“All right, we’ll proceed on your theory and 
hunt for dear life,” declared Mabel. “Let’s begin 
with the books. We’ll take them down and open 
every last one of them.” 

“Suppose we each start at one corner of the 
library,” suggested Patsy. “It’s raining so hard 
we can’t possibly do anything but stay indoors. 
North,” she pointed to Beatrice; “east, that’s you, 
Nellie; south, that’s Mabel, and west, that’s I. 
Now, one, two, three—hunt!” 

The girls skipped to their corners as she indi¬ 
cated each one of them, and the hunt began. 

It lasted all morning, and was productive of 
nothing except a great deal of giggling, exclaim¬ 
ing and dust. The luncheon bell found them still 




i 7 8 


PATSY CARROLL 


deep in their task, with flushed faces and grimy 
fingers. 

“Whew!” exclaimed Patricia, as she blew the 
dust from a fat volume of “Les Miserables,” 
“there doesn’t seem to be anything stirring ex¬ 
cept a lot of dust. It’s very evident the mlaids 
are not literary in their tastes. Look at my dress, 
and my hands.” She held up two slim, dust- 
stained hands to her chums. 

“We are all witnesses to the fact that the li¬ 
brary shelves need dusting,” laughed Mabel. 
“Girls, we must go and get washed this min¬ 
ute. You know how Miss Martha hates having 
us late to luncheon. I know she has already gone 
into the dining-room, because I heard her come 
downstairs.” 

“We’ll finish as soon as we’ve eaten our lunch¬ 
eon,” planned Beatrice. “I’ve only half a shelf 
more to do.” 

But luncheon was hardly over before Mrs. 
Parks’ chauffeur appeared with a note from the 
mistress of Singing Pines inviting Miss Martha 
and her flock to spend the afternoon and take 
dinner with her. By this time the rain had 
stopped and the girls were eager to go to the 
Parks’ camp. 

“To be continued in our next,” laughed Pa- 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


179 


tricia, wagging her head toward the library as 
they started upstairs to dress for their visit. 
“We’ve really only just begun. There are all 
sorts of places where a careful old gentleman 
might put a will for safe-keeping besides in the 
books. It was a good job done to go through the 
books first, though.” 

When, an hour later, Patricia drove her car up 
the wide driveway that led to the Parks’ garage 
the Wayfarers spied Mrs. Parks standing on the 
broad veranda waving them a welcome. She was 
dressed in white and looked a beautiful, gracious 
figure of hospitality. 

“I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me,” she 
called as they approached the house, headed by 
Miss Martha, who wore a pale lavender organdie 
that well became her stately figure and white 
hair. The girls wore the gowns they had put on 
for the dance at Saratoga, and with their bright 
eyes and fresh young faces were a pretty picture 
of eager, glowing youth. 

“The pleasure is all ours,” Patsy made a deep 
curtsey to their hostess. 

“You’re a dear child,” she smiled, patting the 
girl’s hand, which had slipped into hers, “and 
I suspect you of having a very persuasive 
tongue.” 



i8o 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Your suspicions are quite correct,” agreed 
Miss Martha dryly. “Her father and I can tes¬ 
tify to that fact.” 

Patsy merely grinned an impish, lovable grin 
that did more to place Mrs. Parks in her toils 
than mere coaxing would have done. 

Their hostess led the way into her spacious 
living-room, which was even larger than that of 
Wilderness Lodge. Every detail of its furnish¬ 
ings bespoke luxury, and nothing had been left 
undone that artistic skill could devise to make 
Singing Pines a summer home of unusual 
beauty. 

“Harold and Roland will be with us before 
long,” Mrs. Parks informed her guests. “They 
drove to the village on an errand for me, and 
haven’t yet returned. Do you girls play ten¬ 
nis? The boys are very anxious to have a game 
with you.” 

“Bee and I love to play,” replied Patsy, “but 
Mab and Eleanor are not ardent tennis play¬ 
ers.” 

“I am always beaten,” confessed Eleanor. 
“My intentions are good, but the ball never goes 
where I want it to go.” 

“I’m afraid I’m too indolent ever to make a 
good tennis player,” was Mabel’s rueful asser- 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


181 


tion. “I’d rather play croquet or some nice quiet 
game.” 

Miss Martha smiled approval of Mabel. She 
was the least athletic of the four girls and quite 
after Miss Martha’s idea of what a well-behaved 
young girl should be. 

“Then you two girls will have to prove your 
skill as tennis players,” Mrs. Parks nodded to¬ 
ward Patricia and Beatrice. “Hal has a number 
of racquets. Tennis is his pet game.” 

“Singing Pines is a larger camp than Wilder¬ 
ness Lodge, isn’t it ?” asked Beatrice. “It looked 
larger from the highway.” 

“Yes, I believe it is. Yet I think Wilderness 
Lodge is the more attractive camp of the two. 
Mr. Wellington took so much pride in making 
the grounds as well as the house beautiful. Many 
of the shrubs and plants are of rare varieties. He 
was a born collector of curios and rare editions 
of books. He was always bringing home some¬ 
thing interesting. He was so fond of Cecil. She 
was his pet and companion. He brought her up 
and educated her himself far more highly than if 
she had gone to college. But he never intended 
to leave her penniless. I am sure of it. The last 
three months of his life he suffered a great deal 
with severe pains in his head, and they caused 



182 


PATSY CARROLL 


him to be forgetful. Still, no one would ever have 
called him insane or even feeble-minded.” 

Beatrice was about to ask if Ebenezer Wel¬ 
lington had had any special hobbies in the way 
of books, curios or furniture. She had been 
seized with the idea that in some one of his favor¬ 
ite possessions would repose the coveted will. The 
breezy arrival of Hal and Roland at that mo¬ 
ment, however, drove the thought from her mind, 
and the question remained unasked. 

Reinforced by the two young men, the six 
women repaired to the tennis court at one side of 
the camp. 

“These are funny tennis costumes , 55 laughed 
Beatrice, looking down at the skirt of her organ¬ 
die frock. 

“Oh, never mind , 55 laughed Patsy. “I don’t 
ever remember playing tennis in a half after¬ 
noon, half evening dress, either. But what do we 
care as long as the skirts are short and the heels 
of our pumps aren’t too high? Next time we pay 
a visit to Singing Pines we’ll come prepared to 
do stunts rather than to sit still and look pretty . 55 

Hal brought out his racquets, four in number, 
and Patsy and Bee made their selection. Then 
the game began, with Hal and Patsy pitted 
against Roland and Beatrice. Beatrice served. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


183 


Hal returned it, whereupon she sent a ball which 
he failed to reach. 

“Fifteen love,” called Roland exultantly. 
They had won the first point easily. 

“This will never do,” cried Patricia. Never¬ 
theless, Roland and Beatrice won another point. 
Then the tide changed. Patsy and Hal made 
two points in succession, and the score stood 
30-all. They soon gave a point to the opponents, 
however, by a winning cross-court volley made 
by Roland. Patsy gained the next point for her 
side by driving a terrific ball straight at Roland. 
It hit him in the chest, bounded back and came to 
rest in his court. 

“Here, here,” he objected, laughing. “I ob¬ 
ject to such violent treatment.” 

“Deuce,” sang out Hal in triumph. 

The game now began to grow exciting. Patsy 
tried speeding up, but took two long chances and 
faulted two points to her opponents, which served 
to win the game for Beatrice and Roland. The 
four young people played two more games, Patsy 
and Hal winning one out of three. 

“We must have a series of games,” planned 
Hal. “You girls have the making of real tennis 
champions in you. Almost every year there is a 
private tennis tournament up here, just among 




184 PATSY CARROLL 


the families who live in the neighboring camps.” 

“I’d love to do that, wouldn’t you, Bee?” was 
Patricia’s eager cry. 

“Yes, indeed,” replied Beatrice, “if I thought 
I could play well enough.” 

“Play well enough?” laughed Hal. “You can 
outplay any of the girls up here.” 

The quartette strolled over and seated them¬ 
selves on a long garden seat at one side of the 
court. Mrs. Parks, Miss Martha, Mabel and 
Eleanor had walked down the smooth green lawn 
at the back of the camp to the boathouse, a quaint 
bark affair similar to that of Wilderness Lodge. 

“Want to see the boathouse?” asked Hal, as 
they sat idly watching the receding backs of the 
others. 

“Of course we do. We are regular old cur¬ 
iosity shops when it comes to seeing the way folks 
live up here,” declared Patricia. “It’s the nicest 
country ever I was in, this fragrant, spicy land 
of lakes and pines.” 

“You can’t really appreciate the woods until 
you live in them and rough it in a modified fash¬ 
ion,” returned Hal. “You ought to go camp¬ 
ing.” 

Beatrice and Patricia exchanged glances. 

“I’ll tell you a secret, Hal,” confided Patsy. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


185 


“We are simply crazy to go, but Aunt Martha 
won’t let us. I’ve got a brand new scheme, 
though. But first let me ask you a question: Do 
you think your mother would go camping with 
us? We’ve been to see Mr. Merrifield and he 
says he’ll be our guide whenever we want him. 
Aunt Martha won’t go herself. Wild horses 
couldn’t drag her, and we can’t very well go 
either, unless she’d be willing for some other re¬ 
sponsible woman to join the party and look after 
us. The minute I saw your mother and heard 
her say she loved the forest I was sure that she 
was the one person who could make Aunt Martha 
change her mind. I’ve written to my father to 
come up here, but even he wouldn’t do for a 
chaperon. Do you suppose your mother would 
care to go with us?” 

“Would she? Well, I rather guess. We 
haven’t hit the pine-tree trail this year yet either. 
Not only would she be very glad to travel into 
the wilds with an aggregation like the Wayfar¬ 
ers, but Roland and I’d insist on going along for 
company.” 

“That would be splendid,” beamed Patsy. 
“Let’s appoint ourselves a secret committee of 
two to interview your mother in private after 
dinner and see what she thinks of my plan.” 




186 


PATSY CARROLL 


‘‘Done. Here’s my hand on it,” laughed Hal. 
“I’ll be the one to find the opportunity for the 
private interview.” 

“All right; I rely on you to arrange it,” said 
Patsy gaily. 

It was not until dinner was over and Mrs. 
Parks and her guests had strolled out upon the 
moonlit veranda that Hal found his chance. For¬ 
getful for the moment of their plan, Patsy 
strolled down the steps with Mrs. Parks and 
out on the lawn to examine a huge rose bush, pink 
and fragrant with blossoms. Hal sat talking to 
Beatrice. He had been racking his brain for 
an excuse for separating his mother from her 
guests without seeming rude. Now he took hasty 
leave of Beatrice, who smiled knowingly as he 
hurried across the lawn toward the two women. 

“You were the one to find the way,” he said to 
Patricia. 

Patsy looked up and laughed. “I’ll have to 
tell the truth. I didn’t ask your mother to come 
down here purposely. We just drifted down to 
look at the rose bush. It could hardly have hap¬ 
pened more opportunely.” 

“What are you two children talking about?” 
asked Mrs. Parks. “Confess, now, you have 
some kind of scheme on foot.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


187 


“You guessed right the first time, Mother,” 
was Hal’s cheerful assurance. “Patsy and I are 
a powerful league of two, whose sole aim and am¬ 
bition is to make a certain pet project of Patsy’s 
come to pass. But we could do a whole lot more 
if one other person were to j oin our league. That 
one other person is you. Mother.” 

“But before joining your league I should not 
object to knowing just what is expected of me* 
and why my society is apparently so greatly to 
be desired,” suggested Mrs. Parks, her eyes twin¬ 
kling. 

“Well, Mother, speaking as man to man, the 
whole truth is that the four Wayfarers want to 
get up an expedition into the woods and Miss 
Martha won’t hear of it. She doesn’t wish to 
go gypsying, and she won’t allow the girls to go 
without her. Couldn’t you make her see things 
in a different light, so that she’d let you chaperon 
the girls on their trip? Roland, Mercutio Mac- ; 
beth and I will be your faithful woodsmen. I 
ask you with all due modesty, can you think of 
a more delightful or dependable escort?” 

Mrs. Parks regarded her big, laughing-eyed 
son with amused tolerance. “He’s tempting me, 
Patsy,” she said. “He knows I enjoy Mercutio 
Macbeth’s odd ways, and love nothing better than 




18 8 


PATSY CARROLL 


to be out under the trees and blue sky with my 
boys.” 

“Then don’t you believe you’d like being out 
under that same nice blue sky with the Wayfar¬ 
ers?” was Patsy’s insidious query. 

“I’m sure I’d like nothing better. To prove 
it, I’ll begin the campaign to overthrow your 
aunt’s objections at once. I won’t actually ask 
her to allow you to go camping to-night. I’ll 
merely pave the way.” 

“You are too dear for anything!” Patsy 
slipped her arm through that of Mrs. Parks as 
they turned to stroll back to the veranda. Hal 
stopped to break off a pink rosebud for his coat, 
then followed them. 

The moment they reached the veranda, by 
cabalistic signs which only four girls whose hearts 
were set on one particular thing could under¬ 
stand, Patsy managed to let her three friends 
know that Mrs. Parks was on their side. 

True to her word, Mrs. Parks seated herself 
beside Miss Martha and craftily led the conver¬ 
sation from hand-crocheted lace, rag rugs and the 
latest novel to the great outdoors. She related 
to Miss Carroll the various adventures she and 
her husband and son had met with on a camping 
trip during the previous summer. “We are going 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


189 


again this year,” she remarked carelessly, by way 
of finishing her narrative. “Hal asked me only 
to-day when I wished to start. I have been wait¬ 
ing, however, until Mr. Parks returned from his 
business trip west. But he expects to be detained 
for several weeks so we shall have to go without 
him.” 

In spite of her stern refusal of her niece’s plea, 
Miss Martha could not help being interested in 
what Mrs. Parks was saying. It seemed, after 
all, that going camping was quite the thing to 
do rather than something to be tabooed. Miss 
Martha began to have a faint understanding of 
her niece’s side of the case. She wondered if she 
had been a little too ready to say “no.” She was 
by this time wholly under the spell of Mrs. Parks’ 
gracious manner, and what had seemed prepos¬ 
terous to her now appeared quite reasonable. 

Patsy fairly held her breath as, purposely 
seating herself in the porch swing beside Mrs. 
Parks, she observed the latter’s skilfull tactics, 
and listened to her delicate approach of the ta¬ 
booed subject. She noted her aunt’s evident in¬ 
terest, yet she was not able to say just how much 
impression Mrs. Parks’ enthusiasm over camp¬ 
ing made. Miss Martha Carroll’s face was not 
an index to her feelings. 



190 


PATSY CARROLL 


It was not until they were driving home from 
the Parks’ through the warm, fragrant night that 
the first ray of hope dawned. 

“Patsy,” called Miss Carroll from the tonneau 
of the automobile, “Mrs. Parks assures me that 
camping up here is not so dangerous after all. 
If I could place you girls in the charge of a 
woman like her, I might allow you to go into the 
woods for a few days. As far as I am concerned, 
nothing could induce me to go trailing about 
through the weeds and underbrush, with the 
surety of catching a cold by sleeping on the damp 
ground. However, I’ll consider the matter, as I 
am by no means convinced of the wisdom of it.” 

Patsy’s foot slid out and kicked Bee’s lightly, 
but with significance. The league had already 
done much. 




CHAPTER XIX 


PLANNING THE GREAT ADVENTURE 

M ISS MARTHA CARROLL began 
gradually to look with less disfavor 
upon the idea of her little flock making 
an excursion into the forest-covered mountains, 
whose distant peaks were visible from Wilderness 
Lodge. She had several enlightening talks on 
the subject with Mrs. Parks, now a frequent vis¬ 
itor at the Lodge, and so diplomatically did the 
latter meet and one by one conquer Miss Mar¬ 
tha’s objections, that at last the joyful word went 
forth. The Wayfarers could take the trail, pro¬ 
vided Mrs. Parks went with them. 

It took Miss Martha exactly two weeks to 
come to that decision, and she declared herself at 
the dinner table. She was quite unprepared for 
the sudden demonstration that followed. The 
Wayfarers rose from the table in a jubilant body 
and surrounded her, fairly gurgling their joy, 

191 


192 


PATSY CARROLL 


and threatening to smother her with their com¬ 
bined enthusiastic embraces. 

“Mercy on us, children!” she protested, extri¬ 
cating herself from the tangle of twining arms, 
“are you trying to strangle me? Go back and sit 
down, every one of you. I have several things 
to say to you.” 

Four eager-eyed, impatient girls slipped re¬ 
luctantly back into their places, their gaze fast¬ 
ened on Miss Martha. 

“I have decided to allow you to go,” repeated 
Miss Martha, “but there are several matters you 
must promise to obey me in. First of all, you 
must obey Mrs. Parks and Mr. Merrifield. Sec¬ 
ond, you must not run heedlessly into danger. 
Third, you must never try to find your way about 
in the woods alone. Fourth, you are not to talk 
to strangers, unless you are very sure that they 
are proper persons for you to know.” 

“We promise all ‘them’ things,” giggled Pa¬ 
tricia. “Don’t we, girls?” 

“Yes,” was the united chorus. 

“There, Auntie, you are satisfied that we, the 
Wayfarers, will keep our sacred word, on our 
sacred honor?” 

“I believe you will if your memory doesn’t 
prove short,” was Miss Martha’s retort. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


i93 


“Why won’t you go with us. Auntie?” coaxed 
Patricia. “You might just as well go. If Ru¬ 
pert Grandin should come creeping back here to 
look for the will, he’d never find it. We’ve ran¬ 
sacked every inch of the library, and it’s not 
there.” 

“If I hadn’t heard those two men in the boat 
that morning, I would say that old Mr. Welling¬ 
ton didn’t really make a will. He only thought 
he made one,” asserted Beatrice. “Still Cecil 
said he wasn’t crazy or even foolish. He was just 
forgetful.” 

“Oh, I haven’t any doubt about that will. It’s 
hidden away somewhere in this house,” said Pa¬ 
tricia, “but it might as well be in Kamtchatka. I 
don’t believe we, or Rupert Grandin, or anyone 
else, will find it.” 

“Don’t give up so easily,” rallied Eleanor. 
“ ‘Where there’s a will, there’s a way!’ ” 

“^ery encouraging, Nellie,” jeered Mabel. 
“You find the way and we will find the will.” 

“Patricia,” broke in Miss Martha, “did I un¬ 
derstand you to say that this Grandin man might 
come here to ransack the Lodge if we were away 
from it?” 

“There’s nothing he’d like better,” returned 
Patsy. 



194 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Just let him try it while I am here!” Miss 
Martha looked savage enough to completely an¬ 
nihilate the offender if he came within her reach. 
“Besides, I expect your father will run up here 
for a few days at least. When he does arrive he 
will see to it that we aren’t troubled further with 
this odious man.” 

Once Miss Martha had given her august con¬ 
sent to the Wayfarers’ expedition she entered 
into their preparations for the trip with a will. 
She even consented to pay a visit to Mercutio 
Macbeth Merrifield in his woodland hut, Patricia 
having learned from Hal that by taking a round¬ 
about course she could drive her car within half a 
mile of the hunter’s cabin. That particular half 
mile, however, had to be covered on foot, so Rol¬ 
and Carroll, Hal Parks and his mother had ac¬ 
companied the Wayfarers in the Parks’ car to the 
point where the narrow footpath into the wooers 
began, and Hal had obligingly appointed himself 
watchman over the two cars, while Mrs. Parks 
guided the party to the old hunter’s sylvan re¬ 
treat. To Miss Martha’s credit it may be said 
that she trudged along with the others with the 
air of a grenadier, and was even heard to declare 
that she wasn’t half so tired as she had expected 
to be. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


i 95 


By pure chance, Mercutio Macbeth Merrifield 
happened to be at home, having arrived there 
from a two weeks’ trip in the Lake Champlain 
forest region, and his grandiloquent manner of 
greeting his callers impressed Miss Martha. Be¬ 
ing an ardent admirer of Shakespeare, she took 
the actor-guide quite seriously. Patsy, however, 
managed, with difficulty, to keep her face straight 
when Mercutio met them with a rumbling, 
“Hail, friends, I do salute you,” and she dared 
not for the moment glance at the other girls for 
fear of laughing outright as the old hunter took 
off his wide felt sombrero, and placing it against 
his heart, bowed almost to the ground in true 
theatrical fashion. 

“How have you been, Mr. Merrifield?” asked 
Mrs. Parks as she shook hands with the guide, 
then presented him to Miss Martha. 

“Very well, very well, indeed, Madam,” was 
the deep bass answer. “I have just returned 
from a most enjoyable hunting trip. Three actor 
friends of mine, followers of the bard, come here 
every year for a two-weeks’ sojourn in the moun¬ 
tains. One of them has just finished a season of 
Shakespearean drama. Words cannot describe 
my gratification in roaming the woodlands o’er 
with a kindred soul.” 



196 PATSY CARROLL 


“You must have enjoyed yourself immensely,” 
smiled Mrs. Parks. 

“Enjoyment is not the word, my dear Mrs. 
Parks,” returned Mercutio impressively. “It 
was like putting food before a famished beggar. 
I recited long passages from the bard’s immortal 
dramas, and my friends marveled that I had not 
forgotten a line, not a single line.” 

“It is really wonderful to be able to recite 
long passages of Shakespeare by heart,” said 
Patsy with a wicked view to drawing Mercutio 
out. 

“To be sure it is wonderful,” retorted the 
guide. “If I had not been unfortunate enough 
to contract asthma, I would now be the greatest 
living exponent of Shakespearean drama.” In 
his excitement he walked up and down before 
his guests, his dark eyes flashing under his heavy 
eyebrows, his hand thrust into the lapel of his 
coat. 

“Still, Mr. Merrifield, wouldn’t you have hated 
to miss the free life of the woods, and the glory 
of living near to Nature?” asked Beatrice. Her 
face was eloquent with the love of outdoors. 

The old guide looked at Beatrice with approv¬ 
ing interest. “You are a most thoughtful and in¬ 
telligent young woman,” he praised. “To tell 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


197 


you the truth, I am sometimes glad that misfor¬ 
tune made me akin with the forest. 

“ ‘Beneath the forest’s skirts I rest, 

Whose branching pines rise dark and high. 

And hear the breezes of the west 

Among the threaded foliage sigh.’ ” 

he quoted in a sonorous voice to the great delight 
of the four girls, who looked upon the poetically- 
inclined old man as a new and infinitely diverting 
kind of curiosity, while Miss Martha stared 
rather hard at him and wondered if, after all, the 
man were in his right mind, and a suitable per¬ 
son to accompany the Wayfarers on their trip. 
She glanced at Mrs. Parks to see what effect the 
guide’s poetic outburst had upon her, but the 
latter’s placid face showed neither surprise nor 
disapproval. 

“Won’t you come into the cabin and rest? You 
must be tired after your walk,” was the hunter’s 
polite solicitation. 

“Oh, we’d love to come in, though we haven’t 
walked far. Our car is only a half mile below 
here.” It was Patricia who answered. “I should 
like to have my aunt see some of the curious 
things you have picked up in the woods.” 



I9S 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Come in, by all means.” Mercutio Macbeth 
Merrifield led the way to the open door of his 
cabin and, standing to one side, waved them in 
in courtly fashion. 

The party spent a pleasant half hour looking 
at and admiring the trophies that the old guide 
had wrested from the forest. 

“You have added a number of things to your 
collection since last I was here, Mr. Merrifield,” 
remarked Mrs. Parks. “I’ve been so interested 
in looking at them that I almost forgot our er¬ 
rand here this morning.” 

“We are going to take you at your word, Mr. 
Merrifield, and ask you if you will show us a trail 
right into the heart of the forest for a two-weeks’ 
stay?” interposed Patsy, who stood with her arms 
about Mrs. Parks’ waist. 

“When do you wish to start?” questioned the 
guide, looking rather doubtful. 

“Oh, right awajM” cried Patsy eagerly. “The 
sooner the better. Don’t tell us you are en¬ 
gaged to go with some other party before you 
take us.” 

“I won’t,” smiled the guide, “because I’m will¬ 
ing to put everything else aside and go with you. 
Didn’t I tell you that I wouldn’t fail your expe¬ 
dition? I made a partial promise to take a party 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


199 


of men on a fishing trip, but I can put them off 
until the first of next month.” 

“Oh, lovely!” applauded Patsy. “Auntie, 
when can we tell Mr. Merrifield we’ll be ready 
to start?” 

“Whatever day Mrs. Parks sets,” replied Miss 
Martha graciously. “She knows far better than 
I what you will need and how long it takes to get 
it together.” 

Mrs. Parks considered for a moment. “This is 
Tuesday,” she said. “Suppose we start out early 
Friday morning. We have a complete camping 
outfit, a sectional tent and all, and one car in par¬ 
ticular which we always use for our trips. When 
we get to the point where the car can go no fur¬ 
ther, we will divide the luggage between us and 
go up the mountain on foot. The men can carry 
the tent. We will take only such things as we 
must have. Everyone must carry his or her pack. 
You must have special mountain-climbing cos¬ 
tumes and stout, thick-soled shoes. There is a 
store in the village where all those articles are 
sold. I will go shopping with you whenever you 
wish, and you can buy what you need. I’ll make 
a list of the absolute necessities.” 

The four girls surrounded Mrs. Parks, asking 
her eager questions about the proposed trip, 



200 


PATSY CARROLL 


while the old guide stood at one side with Hal 
and Miss Martha, watching and listening to these 
lively young persons with an air of deep interest 
and approval. Secretly Mercutio Macbeth Mer- 
rifield was highly delighted at the prospect ahead 
of him. He liked the simple, unaffected man¬ 
ners of these girls. They were independent, too, 
but neither bold nor given to using slang, an un¬ 
forgivable sin with this ardent worshiper of 
Shakespeare. 

“Come, girls,” said Miss Martha, at last, as 
her charges continued to ply both Mrs. Parks 
and Mr. Merrifield with questions. “My watch 
says twelve o’clock. It will be one o’clock by the 
time we reach home.” 

One by one the Wayfarers bade a reluctant 
good-bye to the guide. They were loth to leave 
so fascinating a place as the old hunter’s cabin. 

“Don’t you dare fail us, Mr. Merrifield,” 
Patsy called over her shoulder as the party, hav¬ 
ing made their farewells, started down the slope. 

“A brave man knows not failure,” boomed 
forth Mercutio Macbeth. “Fair lady, I will keep 
tryst,” he finished with a humorous twist of his 
solemn mouth. 

“I’ll see you in front of the Wilderness Lodge 
at exactly eight o’clock Friday morning,” 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


201 


screamed back Patricia, as the distance between 
them widened. 

The guide waved his arm in a kind of fantas¬ 
tic salute, then a bend in the trail hid him from 
view. 

“Isn’t he an old dear, though?” remarked 
Patsy to Hal. 

“One of the finest all-around fellows I ever 
knew,” declared Hal warmly. “He has taken 
a great fancy to the Wayfarers. That’s plain 
to be seen. As a rule, he is rather stiff and stand¬ 
offish with strangers. When he takes a crowd of 
fellows out on a trip he’s dignity personified. He 
only lapses into poetry when he feels perfectly 
at ease with a person.” 

“But he began quoting ‘Thanatopsis’ before 
he’d known us five minutes,” put in Beatrice. 

“He knew he was going to like the Wayfarers; 
that’s the reason he did it. He’s one of the best 
judges of human nature I ever met. He can 
read a person’s character almost at first glance. 
He’s a wonderful man, and as square and honor¬ 
able as a man can be. Isn’t he. Mother?” 

“Yes,” returned Mrs. Parks. “Mr. Merrifield 
is a particularly fine type of the true nature lover. 
He has a soul as broad and free as his forests and 
mountains.” 



202 


PATSY CARROLL 


“I am decidedly glad to hear you say so,” was 
Miss Martha’s prim comment. “When he began 
to quote poetry I was quite sure that he was a 
trifle demented, and anyone but a safe person 
with whom to trust my girls.” 

“He is peculiar, but not in the least unbal¬ 
anced. In reality, he belongs to that school of 
actors known as old-time legitimates, who de¬ 
lighted in acting off the stage as well as on. Mr. 
Merrifield has merely the mannerisms of the old- 
time tragedian,” explained Mrs. Parks. “These 
mannerisms, coupled with his predilection for 
poetry, seem very funny to us. When first we 
came up here—that was several years ago—and 
engaged him to go on a camping trip with us, 
I could hardly keep from laughing in his face at 
his oddities; but I’ve grown so used to him, and 
so fond of him, that I never think of laughing at 
him.” 

Mrs. Parks’ praise of the old actor-guide set 
Miss Martha’s doubts and fears at rest, and dur¬ 
ing the drive home she listened interestedly to 
the program Mrs. Parks laid out for the trip. 

“Why won’t you go with us. Miss Carroll?” 
urged Mrs. Parks. “You have no idea how won¬ 
derful it is to live close to the heart of the great 
outdoors.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


203 


But Miss Martha was not to be tempted. 
“Nothing could persuade me to risk life and limb 
crashing through underbrush and tumbling over 
rocks and logs, to say nothing of sleeping on the 
damp ground. Mr. Carroll will no doubt be here 
by Friday. Even though he is delayed for a day 
or two, I shall remain at Wilderness Lodge,” was 
her firm reply, uttered with such emphasis as to 
leave no doubt about her stand in that matter. 

But when the Wayfarers reached the Lodge 
the first thing that riveted Patricia’s alert eyes 
was a sheaf of letters lying on a small table in 
the living-room, which stood near the door. 
Patsy pounced upon them in a hurry and began 
to sort them rapidly, glancing swiftly, though 
eagerly, at each superscription. 

“Here’s one for you. Auntie, from Daddy,” 
she cried. “Two for you, Mab. One for Elea¬ 
nor; and, oh, yes, one for me. I wonder who it 
can be from. The handwriting isn’t in the least 
familiar.” She handed the others their letters, 
then hastily tore open the end of the envelope 
addressed to her. Drawing forth a single sheet 
of paper, she glanced rapidly over it, then gave 
a joyful little shout. “Listen to this, friends, 
campers and stay-at-homes, if you want to hear 
something that promises some big interest. 



204 


PATSY CARROLL 


“ ‘My Dear Patricia: 

“ ‘Just a line to tell you that I am obliged to 
start on my vacation on Thursday of this week, 
so it will be impossible for m,e to go camping with 
you, later on, as we had planned. I am very 
sorry and terribly disappointed, but the city edi¬ 
tor is adamant, and all my protesting against the 
change of dates has been useless. I shall en¬ 
deavor to come up to Lake Placid for a few days, 
and will call on you at Wilderness Lodge. Then 
I’ll tell you the whole sad story of the stony¬ 
hearted editor and the poor reporter, who didn’t 
believe in changes, particularly in the matter of 
vacations. 

“With endless regret for what I am going to 
miss, and best wishes to the Wayfarers. 

“Your sincere friend, 

“Cecil Vane.” 

“Did you ever hear of anything so lucky?” 
laughed Beatrice. 

“I shall write that adamant, stony-hearted ed¬ 
itor a note of thanks,” declared Patsy. “He has 
certainly done Cecil the greatest service. If he 
had not changed her vacation, then she couldn’t 
have gone with us, for Mr. Merrifield couldn’t go 
with us at the time for which her vacation was 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


205 


first set. I thought of her while we were at the 
cabin, and made up my mind I’d write and ask 
her if she couldn’t change the time of her va¬ 
cation and go with us. That’s one thing that has 
turned out beautifully. Do hurry and open your 
letter from Dad, Auntie. I suppose he’ll be here 
almost as soon as this letter.” 

Miss Carroll drew her letter from the envelope 
and unfolded it with calm deliberation. It also 
consisted of but one folded sheet of paper, on 
which appeared not more than a half dozen lines. 
As she read it a slight expression of dismay swept 
over her face. It gave place almost instantly to 
one of stubborn determination. 

“What is it, Auntie? What does Dad say?” 
Patricia had instantly noted both expressions. 
“Let me take the letter.” 

Miss Martha handed it to her, and Patsy read 
aloud to her chums: 

“Dear Martha: 

“Sorry I can’t be with you this week, but busi¬ 
ness conditions make it necessary for me to re¬ 
main in the city until the end of the month at 
least. Do as you like about the camping trip. 
My opinion is that a few days in the wilds would 
do you all good. Only wish I could join you. 



206 


PATSY CARROLL 


Love to yourself and Patsy. Best wishes to Mab, 
Nellie and Beatrice. Will write more later. 
Hastily, Robert." 

“Oh, dear, that settles it!” wailed Patsy. “We 
can’t go and leave Aunt Martha here all alone. I 
wish Dad’s old business affairs were at the bot¬ 
tom of the Red Sea.” 

“Who says you can’t go?” asked Miss Mar¬ 
tha calmly. 

“Why, Auntie, you know that we won’t leave 
you alone. Suppose that horrid Rupert Gran- 
din came here and tried to make you-” 

“Patricia,” interrupted her aunt impressively, 
“allow me to state, once and for all, that I am 
not afraid of fifty Rupert Grandins, and if this 
good-for-nothing rascal appears at Wilderness 
Lodge and tries to annoy me, he will find that he 
has made a very serious mistake.” 

And so deeply absorbed were the Wayfarers 
in their conversation that they did not see a man, 
who had been crouching under one of the living- 
room windows, slip along the side of the Lodge, 
then stride hurriedly away. 




CHAPTER XX 


THE UNSEEN LISTENER 

H OURS before eight o’clock on that event¬ 
ful Friday morning the Wayfarers 
were up and doing. The pink dawn of 
a perfect August day was just creeping up in 
the eastern sky when Patsy opened her eyes. 

“Wake up, Bee,” she commanded, giving her 
sleeping companion a gentle little shake. “To¬ 
day’s the day.” 

“Oh—what—h-m-m,” mumbled Beatrice. 
Then her heavy eyelids lifted and she regarded 
her chum with drowsy eyes. “What day is it, 
Patsy? Oh, I know now!” Wide awake, Bee 
made a quick spring out of bed and hopped about 
jubilantly. “Won’t it be great, Patsy? Just 
think, to-night we’ll be in the woods, with the 
trees rustling in the wind, and a splendid camp¬ 
fire burning, and the Wayfarers sitting around 
it, telling stories.” 


207 


208 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Won’t it be glorious?” agreed Patsy, with a 
little gurgle of anticipation. Beatrice ran over 
to where Patsy now sat on the edge of her bed 
and gave her a rapturous hug. “And to think, if 
it hadn’t been for you I could never have had 
this lovely vacation.” 

“Oh, forget about that,” advised Patsy. 
“That was pure selfishness on my part. I 
wanted you, you see. Let’s go and drag the girls 
out of bed. It’s high time they were up. We’ll 
begin with Cecil. Here are your slippers. Bee.” 
She tossed a pair of bedroom slippers to her 
friend. A moment later and the two girls had 
thrown on their dressing gowns and were knock¬ 
ing at Cecil’s door. 

Within two hours after the receipt of Cecil 
Vane’s letter a special delivery letter containing 
an invitation to be on hand for the great start on 
Friday morning had been dispatched to Cecil at 
Albany. The very next afternoon a telegram 
containing the joyous message, “Look for me 
Thursday, 9 P. M., Cecil,” had found its welcome 
way to Wilderness Lodge, and that evening Miss 
Martha had for once waived the stern injunction 
to Patsy that she should never make any auto¬ 
mobile drives in the dark, and allowed her to 
motor to the station for Cecil. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


209 


The train was on time, and Cecil had dropped 
the two suitcases she carried and run forward to 
greet her new friends with outstretched hands, 
bubbling her delight over the unexpected way in 
which her wish to accompany the Wayfarers on 
their jaunt had met fulfillment at the very mo¬ 
ment when disappointment stared her in the face. 
The Wayfarers had escorted her to their car in 
triumph, and an hour later she was once more in 
possession of the pretty room that she had for 
so many years called her own. 

The household of Wilderness Lodge had set¬ 
tled itself for the night comparatively early. 
Miss Martha had preached the advisability of a 
long sleep before starting on the climb up the 
mountains, and her remarks had borne fruit. By 
ten o’clock the lights of the Lodge had winked 
out, and the full moon shone down on the soundly 
sleeping Wayfarers. 

Now the day of days had dawned, and Patsy 
and Beatrice hailed it with acclamation as they 
pounded vigorously on Cecil’s door. 

“Who’s there?” called Cecil in a sleepy voice. 
There was a patter of bare feet on the floor, the 
click of a deadlatch, and then the door was opened 
wide. 

“I forgot that I was a guest,” she smiled and 




210 


PATSY CARROLL 


glanced wistfully about the pretty room. “It 
seemed so perfectly natural to be in my old room 

again that for a moment there were no Wayfar- 
99 

ers. 

“I know just how strangely you must feel,” 
sympathized Patsy. “I’d feel just as you do if 
someone came and turned me out of my room at 
home. Never mind, Cecil, I am as sure as any¬ 
thing that some day the will must come to light, 
and you will have your pretty room back again.” 

“You haven’t found the faintest clue to it, 
have you?” asked Cecil sadly. 

“No.” Patsy shook her curly head. “But 
that’s not saying we won’t. We have almost two 
months to stay here yet. One thing I feel sure 
of, it’s not in the library. We’ve gone over every 
inch of the room, looked in all the books on the 
shelves, and in every place and object large 
enough to hold it. Bee doesn’t agree with me. 
She has a theory that the will is hidden there, and 
in some perfectly simple place where no one could 
think of looking for it. Now that you are going 
to be with us, you can tell us all about Mr. Wel¬ 
lington and his likes and dislikes. Knowing them 
might give us a clue.” 

Cecil regarded Beatrice with thoughtful inter¬ 
est. “Perhaps your theory will prove correct,” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


21 I 


she said slowly. “Do you suppose we’ll have time 
before we start to take a look about the library? 
It will bring back to me all Daddy Wellington’s 
special preferences.” 

“We will take time,” Patsy answered energet¬ 
ically. 

“Then we’d better be getting dressed,” re,- 
minded Beatrice. 

“We’ll see you later,” nodded Patsy to Cecil. 
Then, seizing Beatrice by the arm, she rushed her 
down the hall and into their room at top speed, 
their merry laugher causing Eleanor to open her 
door and peer out to discover what was going on. 

Patsy’s quick ears caught the sound of the 
opening door. 

“Hurry up, Nellie,” she called. “Come down 
to breakfast as soon as you can. I’ve a surprise 
for you.” 

“Did it come in that big box I saw the express- 
man lugging into the Lodge yesterday?” asked 
Nellie curiously. 

“It did. It’s Dad’s secret and mine. The 
sooner you’re dressed and downstairs the sooner 
the surprise will happen. Aunt Martha and 
Mrs. Parks are the only ones in the secret, and 
they didn’t know it at first. I planned it ages 
ago and all by myself.” 



212 


PATSY CARROLL 


‘Til be downstairs before you,” challenged 
Nellie, her head disappearing from view with sig¬ 
nal promptness. 

It was just twenty minutes past six when the 
Wayfarers sat down to breakfast, and it was due 
only to Miss Martha’s stern command, “Girls, 
every one of you must eat a good breakfast,” that 
they managed to dispose of the appetizing meal 
set before them. 

“There,” declared Patsy at length, setting her 
empty coffee cup in its saucer with a flourish. “I 
can’t eat another mouthful. You girls go ahead 
and finish while I spring the great surprise.” 
She darted from the room, to return presently 
under the weight of a huge, unwieldy pasteboard 
box. “Oh!” she sighed with relief as she set it 
down. “It almost broke my arms.” 

By this time breakfast was a thing of the past 
to the four young women whose eyes were riveted 
on Patricia. She lifted the cover of the box and 
drew forth a soft dark green coat of corduroy. 
“Here you are, Nellie; catch.” She tossed it to 
her friend, who reached out her hand mechanic¬ 
ally for it, looking decidedly amazed. “Here’s 
the skirt and the hat. There are high, laced tan 
boots to go with it, but I had to leave them up¬ 
stairs. I couldn’t carry another thing. This is 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


213 


yours, Mab. Dark blue is your color, you know. 
Brown stands for Bee, and Cecil’s is green, too.” 
She bundled her gifts into the arms of the ex¬ 
claiming girls. “I’m going to be a bright splotch 
of color on the landscape.” She held up a dark 
red corduroy coat. 

“How perfectly darling in you, Patsy,” cried 
Eleanor. “We never dreamed of such a thing. 
No wonder Mrs. Parks advised us to buy those 
cheap khaki suits at that little shop, and told us 
our ordinary thick-soled shoes would do. She 
knew there were better things in store for us.” 

For the next five minutes the dining-room re¬ 
sounded with “ohs” and “ahs” and “thank yous,” 
as the girls gleefully inspected and gloated over 
this unexpected addition to their wardrobe. 

“I was afraid corduroy would be too warm for 
this weather; but this is very fine and very light 
weight; beside, Mrs. Parks says it will be cool 
enough, once we get fairly into the wilderness,” 
stated Patsy, smoothing her red coat lovingly. 

“But how could you order all these clothes 
when you didn’t know for a certainty that we 
were going?” questioned Mabel. 

“Well,” Patsy showed her dimples in a rog¬ 
uish smile, “I wrote to our dressmaker the very 
next day after we met Mrs. Parks and asked her 



214 


PATSY CARROLL 


if she would go shopping for me and buy the out¬ 
fits. I thought if we didn’t go camping they 
would be nice to have, at any rate. I had quite a 
time getting you girls’ measurements without 
your knowing it, and I had to guess at Cecil’s. 
When it was all settled that we were to go, I 
told Auntie what I had done. It saved her a 
whole lot of worry about what we were to wear, 
didn’t it. Auntie?” Patricia glanced mischiev¬ 
ously at Miss Martha. 

“It is merely one more instance of an indulg¬ 
ent aunt and a headstrong niece,” was her aunt’s 
grim reply, but the twinkle in her eyes belied her 
dry words. 

“Let’s hurry upstairs and get into our forest¬ 
er’s garb,” proposed Beatrice. “I am crazy to 
see how I look in it.” 

There was a scurry of lively young feet on the 
stairs, accompanied by much talking and laugh¬ 
ter, as the Wayfarers, laden with their new 
clothes, repaired to their rooms to dress for the 
great adventure. Patricia dived into her room 
and out again, her arms full of shining brown 
leather shoes that laced to the knee. Cecil was 
the first to appear in her smart green costume 
looking like Shakespeare’s immortal Rosalind. 
The others soon followed her down to the l Nr ing- 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


215 


room. Beatrice wore a scarlet scarf tied under 
the collar of her brown silk blouse and a small 
scarlet wing in her hat, and reminded one of a 
robin. Mabel’s and Eleanor’s fair type of beauty 
was well set off by their respective blue and green 
suits. The five girls made a pretty picture as 
they pranced about the big living-room trying 
their new boots. The skirts of their dresses 
reached considerably below their knees, yet were 
short enough to run no risk of being cumber¬ 
some. Patsy’s costume was the only one which 
lacked a hat. She had elected to wear her leather 
motor cap. 

Cecil Vane had put aside the slight air of con¬ 
straint which had at first characterized her in 
talking with the Wayfarers, and laughed and 
chatted as merrily as though she had not a care in 
the world. When she had accepted the Wayfar¬ 
ers’ invitation to join their camping party she 
had resolved not to allow the shadow of her lost 
home and happiness to darken the pleasure in 
store for her. After a few tears, shed in the pri¬ 
vacy of the room that she loved, Cecil had dried 
her eyes and determined to live entirely in the 
present. 

“What a darling knapsack that is, Cecil,” ad¬ 
mired Patricia. After the parade about the liv- 




216 


PATSY CARROLL 


ing-room to allow Aunt Martha to see them in 
all their glory, the five girls had gone upstairs to 
their rooms to gather up their individual belong¬ 
ings which they intended to take with them. 
Patsy and Cecil had finished their preparations 
for the start and appeared in the upper hall at 
the same moment. Cecil wore a small black 
leather knapsack, hung over one shoulder by a 
black leather strap. 

‘‘Daddy Wellington bought it for me at least 
five years ago. It is the handiest thing ever for 
carrying lunches or small articles. I always used 
to carry it when we went camping.” 

“I wish I had one,” sighed Patsy. “It looks 
so cute hanging from your shoulders.” 

“Why, Patsy, you can have one,” cried Cecil. 
“I never thought of it before. Daddy Welling¬ 
ton’s old knapsack hangs in a closet just off the 
kitchen. That is, if Rupert hasn’t had the things 
in there cleared away. Let us go and see if we 
can find it.” 

“Oh, how splendid,” gurgled Patsy as she fol¬ 
lowed in Cecil’s wake. “I do hope it’s there.” 

Sure enough, it hung far back in the closet. 
Evidently it had not been disturbed since the last 
time Cecil’s benefactor had placed it there. 

“Oh, goody! It’s just like yours only a little 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


217 


larger. Look at the cunning outside pocket, 
Cecil.” Patricia was examining her treasure 
minutely as she talked. 

“Why, I never noticed that before. Mine 
doesn’t have that pocket. Open it, Patsy.” 

Patsy tried in vain to move the stiff clasp that 
held the pocket shut. It was obstinate. Cecil 
attacked it with her strong young fingers, but 
still it remained obdurate. 

“It’s stuck,” declared Cecil in deep disgust. 
“See, the clasp has rusted. Let it go for now. 
We’ll get Hal to pry it open. Here.” She hung 
it over Patricia’s shoulder. 

Patsy glanced at her wrist watch set in a wide 
leather strap. Her father had clasped it upon 
her wrist on the morning the Wayfarers had left 
home. “It’s half-past seven, Cecil,” she com¬ 
mented. “They’ll soon be here. We’ll have to 
hurry if we take a last look about the library. 
That reminds me, do you think Rupert Grandin 
is likely to come here and try to find the will while 
we are away?” 

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” was Cecil’s con¬ 
temptuous answer. “Still, he doesn’t know about 
that letter Daddy wrote me and you found, so 
of course he isn’t absolutely sure that the will is 
really in the Lodge. He knows that I firmly be- 



218 


PATSY CARROLL 


lieve he stole my inheritance, but he doesn’t 
know that I have the proof that Daddy’s will ex¬ 
ists. If he did then you may be very sure- 

Who was that?” Even as she spoke there came 
to her ears the sound of stealthy, fleeing steps. 
Patsy swung the partially closed door wide. Both 
she and Cecil had stood in the dimly lighted closet 
fumbling with the refractory catch, their backs 
directly to the door. Who had been listening to 
them? How long had the person stood there? 
What was his object? These were the questions 
which Patsy asked herself as she stood looking 
blankly at Cecil. 

“Someone listened purposely,” muttered Cecil; 
“and depend upon it, that person is friendly to 
Rupert. He has only one friend in this house. 
It was John who stood and listened to us. I 
know it was.” 

“Then I don’t think we ought to leave Aunt 
Martha here alone with him and only the maids,” 
demurred Patsy. “Mrs. Harding was taken ill 
after she left the Lodge and isn’t well enough 
to come back yet, and Dad can’t come before the 
last of the month. What if after all our plan¬ 
ning we couldn’t go, Cecil?” She turned tragic 
eyes to her companion. 

“We must tell your aunt at once,” decided 





AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


219 


Cecil. But when they laid the matter before Miss 
Martha Carroll she betrayed no particular con¬ 
cern. 

“Well, I must say if John is a friend of this 
Grandin man he shows very poor taste in select¬ 
ing his friends,” was the intrepid old lady’s sole 
comment. 

“Then you are not afraid to stay here alone 
after what I just told you?” was Patsy’s incred¬ 
ulous question. 

“Certainly I am not afraid. I consider myself 
far safer here than climbing slippery rocks and 
sleeping on the damp ground. You girls may 
prefer tearing up hill and down dale, but I came 
up to Wilderness Lodge for rest and quiet, and 
I propose to have it, regardless of John, or this 
Grandin man, or any other tiresome person.” 

But Miss Martha was destined later to learn 
more about “tearing up hill and down dale” than 
she had ever dreamed. 




CHAPTER XXI 


IN TUNE WITH THE GREAT OUTDOORS 

THEN, as the garish day is done, 

V/V/ Heaven burns with the descended sun, 
* * ’Tis passing sweet to mark, 

Amid that flush of crimson light, 

The new moon’s modest bow grow bright, 
As earth and sky grow dark.” 

declaimed Mercutio Macbeth sonorously, his 
long arm raised in a salute to the thin crescent 
moon that hung clear in the evening sky. 

Six never-to-be-forgotten days had elapsed 
since the Wayfarers had fared forth on the great 
adventure. They had been days of brilliant sun¬ 
shine and swift scudding shadows, that sometimes 
grew a trifle threatening, but always cleared 
away. It seemed as though sky, sun and wind 
had entered into a compact to be kind to the 
Wayfarers and were bent religiously on keeping 
220 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


221 


it. The start had been made at a little after eight 
o’clock on that eventful morning, when Miss 
Martha had scouted at the bare idea of timidity 
on her part, should Rupert Grandin seek to dis¬ 
turb her during the Wayfarers’ stay in the moun¬ 
tains, and waved the camping party a farewell 
from the veranda with the air of a general about 
to take possession of a regiment. 

The campers were to motor to Westport, a 
distance of about twenty-six miles from Lake 
Placid, and from there to begin their jaunt 
through the mountains. The village of Westport 
is a pretty little place, situated on the slope of 
the natural terrace which encircles the great 
Northwest Bay of Lake Champlain. It has been 
known for many years as the eastern gateway of 
the Adirondacks, and behind it the towering 
mountains keep their eternal vigil over the little 
town. 

Once in Westport, the party had climbed one 
of the mountains to a beautiful dell of white 
birches to drink the water of a spring, marvel¬ 
ously pure and clear, which burst from a subter¬ 
ranean source and poured forth water at the rate 
of a million gallons a day. By the time they were 
ready to leave Westport and push forward to 
the mountains it was well into the afternoon. 




222 


PATSY CARROLL 


With the exception of the one tent, for the fem¬ 
inine contingent of the camping party, the light 
luggage and supplies had been divided evenly 
and made into packs to be carried by the mem¬ 
bers of the party. In addition to that, each per¬ 
son carried a gray army blanket, a rubber pil¬ 
low, easily inflated, a tin plate, a cup, a spoon, a 
knife and fork. Mrs. Parks carried the addi¬ 
tional burden of a good-sized coffee-pot, while to 
Cecil fell the honor of bearing the big frying-pan 
that was to hold their bacon. The old guide car¬ 
ried a coil of light, strong rope slung across his 
shoulder, while he and the two young men also 
wore belt-hatchets. To Hal and Roland fell the 
work of carrying the sectional tent, which was 
strong, yet of light weight and easily borne. 

It was a carefree, jubilant procession that had 
finally said good-bye to their automobiles and to 
civilization and, headed by the stalwart actor- 
guide, pressed forward through the eastern gate¬ 
way and into the mountains where new and de¬ 
lightful experiences were in store for the Way¬ 
farers. Under the direction of the guide they 
had learned to build the famous beds of balsam 
boughs, and, wrapped in their blankets, had lain 
down on them at night to sleep the dreamless 
sleep of healthy exhaustion. They had stood on 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


223 


the high places of the mountains in the early 
morning to drink in the glorious air and feast 
their eyes on the vast panorama of the lakes, 
streams, trees and fields that lay below them. 
They had acquired, even in that short space of 
time, a goodly amount of woodlore, and they had 
learned to build fires and cook their food in the 
open. 

In the wilderness Mercutio Macbeth Merrifield 
was in his element. He was never tired of ex¬ 
patiating to the interested girls on the beauties 
of Nature, or relating his adventures, or reciting 
verse to his appreciative audience, while each day 
the wonder of the forest and the marvels of God’s 
handiwork were impressed more deeply upon the 
four friends who were having their first taste of 
woodland adventuring. 

And now one more perfect day had slipped 
down the western sky to eternal oblivion, and the 
campers had gathered around their fire to in¬ 
dulge in their usual evening pastime of telling 
stories and exchanging experiences. 

There was a little appreciative silence after 
the guide’s recital of the verse to the new moon. 
The thin, silver crescent poised so gracefully in 
the star-strewn sky, the pungent, spicy odor of 
the sleeping forest, stirred into life by the faint 



224 


PATSY CARROLL 


whisper of the night wind, and the exquisite 
beauty of the night itself, made the verse seem 
peculiarly fitting. 

“Bryant might almost have composed that 
poem for this very night,” declared the guide, 
wagging his head in admiration of Bryant’s ode 
to the new moon. He addressed the party in gen¬ 
eral, but he looked directly at Beatrice as he 
spoke. He had quickly discovered that she was 
a poetry-loving soul, and secretly took the ut¬ 
most satisfaction in watching her changeful face 
as he quoted from his beloved Shakespeare and 
other poets. He was always sure of Beatrice’s 
appreciation. 

Patricia, however, was far more deeply inter¬ 
ested in the stories he had to tell of the early 
history of the Adirondack and Lake Champlain 
region, while Mabel and Eleanor were wickedly 
interested in him by reason of his dramatic out¬ 
bursts, and still found it difficult to stifle their 
laughter when he soared bombastically to heights 
of verse. 

“Do tell us a real blood-curdling Indian story, 
Mr. Merrifield.” Patricia’s eager voice shattered 
the silence that had fallen upon the group seated 
around the campfire. “This region is full of In¬ 
dian lore, isn’t it? There’s Otsego Lake. They 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


22 5 


call it the Lake of the Haunting Shadows. Just 
think, James Fenimore Cooper made it the cen¬ 
tral location of several of his ‘Leather Stocking 
Tales.’ It was there that he made Uncas and 
Cora and Hawkeye the Scout, live. I love ‘The 
Last of the Mohicans.’ I’ve read it ever so many 
times.” 

“Tell us the story of Jane McCrea, Mr. Merri- 
field,” interposed Cecil. She had been gazing 
into the fire, her large eyes soft and dreamy. 

“Did you ever hear it?” asked the guide. His 
question included the circle. 

“I believe I have,” said Mrs. Parks, “but I’ve 
forgotten the story itself.” 

“I never heard it,” declared Roland. 

“Neither did I,” came from the four Wayfar¬ 
ers and Hal. 

“There,” laughed Patricia, “you see your 
duty.” 

“Well,” began the guide, “Jane McCrea was 
one of the most beautiful girls that ever lived in 
this part of the country. She was not only beau¬ 
tiful, but especially loved for her sweet disposi¬ 
tion. She was of medium height, and had blue 
eyes and long, golden hair that trailed on the 
ground when it was unbound. Of course, all the 
young men who knew her were in love with her, 




226 


PATSY CARROLL 


but she was engaged to a young officer in Bur- 
goyne’s army, so they had to admire her from a 
distance. 

“The summer she was seventeen years old, her 
brother took her to Fort Edward, and left her 
there because her parents were dead and he was 
afraid their home might be raided by Indians 
while she was alone in it. The man to whom she 
was engaged—his name was David Jones—was 
encamped with the British army about four miles 
from the fort. When he heard that Jane was at 
the fort he sent a party of Indians, commanded 
by a half-breed named Duluth, to bring her safely 
to the British lines. There was a chaplain in his 
camp, and so he and Jane planned to be married 
there. But before the man Duluth and his party 
reached the house outside the fort where she had 
gone to wait for her escort, another party of In¬ 
dians from the British camp came and captured 
her. They started back to their camp with her 
and met the first party when halfway there. The 
two parties of Indians began to dispute as to 
which should conduct Jane to her lover. The dis¬ 
pute became a fight, and an Indian named Le 
Loupe, one of the leaders, shot her through the 
heart. He left her body on the ground where it 
fell when he shot her, but he scalped her and car- 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 227 


ried her scalp to the British camp, where it was 
at once recognized by the length and beauty of 
her hair. The shock of her death nearly caused 
her lover to become insane, and her brother came 
the next day and buried her poor mutilated body 
on American soil, and swore vengeance against 
the Indians. 

“He told the story of her horrible death 
throughout the country and the Americans were 
so enraged over the outrage that they assembled 
and fought against Burgoyne with a great deal 
more fury than they would have if poor Jane 
McCrea had not been murdered while on her way 
to be married. Her tragic death was the spur 
that prodded them on to defeat the British.” 

Unconsciously, the guide had grown dramatic 
as he told the story of the ill-fated Jane McCrea. 
He brought vividly before them the young gold¬ 
en-haired girl going trustingly to meet her lover 
and meeting, instead, a cruel death. 

“Poor Jane McCrea,” said Patsy softly. 
“How could the Indians have had the heart to kill 
any one so beautiful?” 

“I think Jane McCrea must have looked like 
Cecil,” remarked Eleanor. “Cecil has long, 
golden hair and a sweet disposition.” 

“Much obliged,” acknowledged Cecil, “but I 




228 


PATSY CARROLL 


am afraid I never would have stood like a lamb 
and let those savages finish me. I’d have run 
away or at least done a little fighting.” 

“I’m glad those days are gone forever,” shud¬ 
dered Mabel. “Yesterday I stood looking down 
the trail and wondering how I’d feel if suddenly 
a painted Indian walked out of the woods and 
flourished his tomahawk at me.” 

“Just imagine how those poor settlers must 
have felt to wake up in the dead of night in their 
lonely little cabins to the sound of blood-curdling 
war-whoops,” said Beatrice. 

“No, thank you, I prefer an alarm clock,” 
grimaced Patsy. “It’s really the lesser of the 
two evils.” 

“You’d never hear one if it did go off in the 
middle of the night,” giggled Eleanor. “You 
sleep so soundly that you’d never hear a regiment 
of whooping Indians if they came to scalp you.” 

“The story of Jane McCrea reminds me of one 
my grandfather used to tell,” broke in Mrs. 
Parks. 

“All story contributions gratefully received,” 
beamed Mabel. 

Mrs. Parks held forth to an attentive aud¬ 
ience. Then Roland remembered a particularly 
hair-raising Indian story that his grandfather had 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


229 


been fond of telling. One by one the group 
about the campfire added some tale or happening 
they had heard of the previous days of long ago, 
when the very leaves on the trees seemed to whis¬ 
per danger. 

It was after eleven o’clock when the magic cir¬ 
cle broke and prepared for their night’s sleep. 

“I’ll dream of Indians and tomahawks, see if 
I don’t,” predicted Patricia. Sure enough, she 
did. She dreamed that Aunt Martha was to be 
married to a British officer and sat waiting on 
the porch of Wilderness Lodge for him. But 
before he appeared Rupert Grandin came rush¬ 
ing up the drive with a tomahawk and seized 
Aunt Martha by her gray top-knot, shouting, 
“Give me the will! Give me the will!” Patsy 
dreamed that she ran to her aunt’s rescue, scream¬ 
ing and brandishing the frying-pan that the 
campers used to cook their bacon, when John, 
the coachman, suddenly appeared on the scene 
and tried to smother her by stuffing the new em¬ 
broidered sofa pillow, that Aunt Martha was 
finishing when they left the Lodge, down her 
throat. 

As a matter of fact, Patricia’s screams roused 
the camp, and by the time she had, in her dream, 
torn away the offending pillow and given John 




230 


PATSY CARROLL 


a resounding whack on the head that caused him 
to close up like a telescope, she opened her eyes 
and stared up into the frightened faces of Mrs. 
Parks and her chums, as they bent over her. 
“What’s the matter?” she asked wonderingly. 

“Patsy Carroll, you’ve had the most awful 
nightmare. You nearly frightened us foolish. 
Whatever did you dream?” questioned Mabel. 

“I told you Jane McCrea would haunt me,” 
reminded Patsy with a sheepish grin. She was 
recovering rapidly from her dream panic. “Only 
Jane McCrea was Aunt Martha.” Patsy related 
her dream with many giggles. 

It was not until the camp had settled down 
once more for the night and Beatrice was drop¬ 
ping off to sleep that she heard her name called 
softly. Then, “Do you believe in dreams, Bee?” 
Patsy’s voice was just above a whisper. 

“Of course not,” was Beatrice’s sturdy re¬ 
sponse. 

“Neither do I. Still I can’t help feeling a lit¬ 
tle worried about Aunt Martha. I’m afraid we 
ought not to have left her alone.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t let a silly dream worry me,” 
soothed Beatrice. “Go to sleep, Patsy dear. In 
the morning you will have forgotten it. There is 
nothing in dreams.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


231 


In this respect Bee was right, yet could she 
have looked into the future she might have had a 
certain amount of faith in the old saying, “Com¬ 
ing events cast their shadows before.” 




CHAPTER XXII 


MISSING, A WAYFARER 

T RUE to Beatrice’s prediction, the shadow 
of Patsy’s unpleasant dream passed 
away with the brightness of the dawn. It 
was to be a busy day, for the campers intended to 
make a ten-mile hike to a wilder part of the 
mountains where they expected to make camp 
for at least a week before starting back to Lake 
Placid. There was a camp not far from their 
present stopping place where they could secure 
enough supplies to last them the rest of the trip, 
so Hal and Roland were to secure them and meet 
the others at a certain spot farther up in the 
mountains. Later in the day they were to come 
back for the tent, which was to be cached behind 
a huge rock. 

After breakfast the two young men started on 
their errand while the Wayfarers packed their 
kit and prepared for what was to be the longest 

232 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


233 


climb they had yet attempted. All that morning 
they toiled steadily up the trail. Their progress 
was slow, for they were heavily burdened. At 
noon the boys returned with the supplies and the 
girls spread the luncheon on a huge flat rock and 
ate a merry and substantial meal. Directly they 
had finished Hal and Roland started down the 
mountain to secure the tent. 

“It looks like rain,” announced Mercutio, 
squinting reflectively at the sky. The luncheon 
had been eaten to a crumb. The guide and the 
six women still sat about the rock, laughing and 
chatting. “If we hurry we can make a shelter 
I know of farther up the mountain. We’d better 
do it, too. Sometimes these mountain storms 
aren’t very pleasant.” 

Mrs. Parks scanned the rapidly lowering sky 
with anxious eyes. “We had better be moving, 
girls. I don’t like the look of those clouds.” 

A great scurrying about and picking up of be¬ 
longings ensued. In ten minutes the party was 
ready to move, but even in that time the sky had 
grown perceptibly darker. 

“How far is the shelter, for goodness’ sake?” 
gasped Mabel as she toiled along, the last in the 
hurrying line of climbing figures. 

“About a mile further up,” answered Mrs. 




234 


PATSY CARROLL 


Parks; “but I’m afraid we’ll never make it.” 

“We must make it,” rumbled the guide’s deep 
tones. He plodded on at the head of the line, 
urging and encouraging the rapidly-tiring girls. 

After twenty minutes’ steady climbing he 
called out: “There it is.” He pointed to a small 
hut about a quarter of a mile up the trail. Be¬ 
fore they reached it, however, it began to rain. 

“Hurry,” shouted the guide. His companions 
quickened their pace. Patsy had stopped to tie 
her bootlace and was now the last. Suddenly 
the rain began to come down in blinding sheets, 
drenching the travelers to the skin. A fierce gust 
of wind caught Patsy’s leather cap and tore it 
from her head. She made a frantic clutch at it, 
and, losing her balance, stumbled and fell. She 
uttered one sharp cry, but her voice was lost in 
the fury of the storm. She felt herself sliding 
down what seemed to be an endless distance, then 
suddenly everything grew dark. 

Ten minutes later five women and a man gath¬ 
ered in the hut and stared at each other with 
frightened eyes. 

“Where—where—is—Patsy ?” faltered Bea¬ 
trice. 

No one answered. 

Mercutio Macbeth Merrifield stepped to the 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


235 


door of the hut, and throwing it open, sent a ring¬ 
ing, stentorian halloo echoing through the storm. 
But only the roar of the wind and the beat of the 
rain flung back a mocking reply to his call. The 
guide turned up the collar of his hunting jacket 
and buttoned it to his chin. Jamming his wide 
black felt hat firmly down on his head, he faced 
the terrified women. “Stay where you are,” he 
ordered. “Don’t one of you venture out in the 
storm. I’m going back to look for Miss Patsy. 
She must have stumbled and fallen.” 

“She was the last one going up the trail. I 
was last until Patsy stopped to tie her bootlace. 
It was dragging, and she was afraid it would trip 
her. Then it began to rain and I hurried to keep 
up with the rest of you. I thought she was right 
behind me,” Mabel’s voice faltered, and she began 
to cry. 

“How far were we from the hut when she last 
spoke to you, Mabel?” asked Mrs. Parks, her own 
voice not quite steady. 

“I don’t know,” returned Mabel tearfully. 
“Oh, yes, I do remember. It was just after Mr. 
Merrifield told us to hurry, and that we were only 
a quarter of a mile from the hut.” 

“Then she can’t be far away,” put in Beatrice, 
her face brightening a little. 




236 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Unless she has lost her footing and rolled 
down the mountain,” was the guide’s reply. 

The five women regarded him with fresh hor¬ 
ror. It was unbelievable that Patsy, with her 
gay, gracious ways and love of life, should be ly¬ 
ing somewhere down the mountain side, broken 
and bleeding, perhaps dead. 

“I can’t bear it,” quavered Eleanor; burying 
her face in her hands she, too, burst into tears. 

“I’m going to find her if I can.” With the 
last word of determination the guide flung open 
the door and was swallowed up in the storm. 

Left alone in the hut the Wayfarers sat in a 
dismal row on a rude bench built the length of 
one side of the cabin. Eleanor and Mabel were 
both in tears. Mrs. Parks, white-faced and 
racked with anxiety, sat listening intently to 
every sound. Beatrice sat with her head in her 
hands, wondering what she could do to help find 
her beloved chum. Once she rose, and going to 
the door opened it and peered out. A sheet of 
driving rain saluted her, causing her to gasp, slam 
the door and go back to her seat on the bench. 

‘What time is it, Cecil?” she asked. It seemed 
hours since the guide had left the hut. 

Cecil glanced at her wrist watch, then rising, 
walked to the door. “It’s twenty minutes past 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


237 


three,” she said. As she spoke, she began but¬ 
toning her jacket. Opening the door a little she 
glanced out, then she turned and cast a quick 
look toward her friends. Beatrice raised her head 
from her hands in time to note Cecil’s peculiar 
glance. In a flash she read Cecil’s intention. 
“Cecil, you mustn’t,” she began. “You know, 
Mr.-” 

The clicking of the latch answered her. Cecil 
was gone. 

The steady beat, beat, beat of the rain upon her 
upturned face brought Patsy back from the 
dreadful darkness into which she had been so sud¬ 
denly plunged. With consciousness came ques¬ 
tioning wonder. What had happened? Heed¬ 
less of the heavily descending rain she lay still 
and gazed languidly about her. Then recollec¬ 
tion came. With a little cry she struggled to a 
sitting posture. Mechanically she put her hand 
to her head. How it ached! There was a fright¬ 
ful lump at the back of it, too. She must have 
struck against a rock when she fell, she decided. 
No wonder everything had grown suddenly 
black. 

But how long had she been lying in the rain? 
She held up her wrist to look at her watch. The 





238 


PATSY CARROLL 


crystal had been smashed to bits, and one of the 
hands was gone. With an exclamation of impa¬ 
tience Patsy struggled to her feet. She was 
bruised and shaken, but at least she had neither 
broken bones nor sprained ankles. The wrist 
upon which she wore her watch, however, pained 
her greatly. It appeared to be sprained. She 
must hurry up the mountain to the hut at once. 
Her friends must have reached it and missed her. 
Still, only a few minutes might have elapsed since 
she fell. But where was the hut? She gazed up 
the steep slope to where she had first caught sight 
of it; but there was no hut to be seen. 

“I must have rolled farther than I thought,” 
she muttered. “Perhaps I landed at one side of 
the trail and that’s the reason I can’t see the hut. 
Ugh! How wet and cold I am. My pretty red 
suit is a sight to behold. If I had jumped into 
Lake Placid I couldn’t be any wetter than I am 
now. I must hurry. Let me see. I believe I’d 
better go this way to strike the trail. Why, here’s 
my knapsack! How funny it stayed over my 
shoulder when I tumbled. It must have slipped 
under me, for it’s all caved in, and the clasp is 
broken. Oh, well, that will save me the trouble 
of trying to pry it open.” In spite of her bruises, 
and wet, soggy clothing, Patricia was fast re- 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


239 


gaining her usual high spirits. Confident that 
she was nearing the hut where her friends were, 
she plodded sturdily up the steep side of the 
mountain through the drenching rain, bent only 
on reaching her goal. She strained her eyes con¬ 
stantly for some glimpse of the hut; but she could 
see nothing that even remotely resembled it. 

“It must be farther up the mountain than Mr. 
Merrifield said,” was her anxious thought as she 
plodded on up the wet, slippery steep, stumbling 
frequently, and once tripping over a projecting 
root and landing on her hands and knees. The 
rain was still falling, but less heavily than when 
she had first regained consciousness. The sky, 
however, was so thickly overcast that to poor, 
tired Patsy it looked as though twilight were ap¬ 
proaching. She imagined it must be at least six 
o’clock. It was not until she had floundered 
along her drenched, muddy way for at least an 
hour that a frightful sinking of the heart seized 
her. What if she were lost? As far as she could 
see there was nothing but rocks, dripping trees 
and rain-weighted bushes that sent showers of 
silvery drops of water over her as she forced her 
way through them. 

The dread fear that she was lost had now be¬ 
come a conviction. Patsy halted and searched the 




240 


PATSY CARROLL 


gray, misty landscape with desperate eyes. What 
was she to do? Which way should she turn? If 
she were to retrace her steps night would overtake 
her long before she reached any kind of shelter. 
Now that she had missed the trail it was doubtful 
whether she could reach civilization were she to 
descend the mountain. Yet what would it profit 
her to go on? With every step she was, perhaps, 
drawing further away from her friends. Her 
brief cheerfulness vanished and a sob rose in her 
throat. “What shall I do?” she moaned. “I 
can’t stand still, and it’s foolish to go on this 
way. Oh, why did I stop to tie that wretched 
bootlace?” 

Nevertheless, she dragged herself on until 
presently, with a cry of joy she tried to quicken 
her lagging steps. Just ahead of her was a kind 
of rude, natural shelter. It was a shallow cavern, 
the roof of which was formed by a large over¬ 
hanging rock that jutted straight out of the 
mountain. Huge rocks formed irregular sides to 
this natural cavern, and when well under the jut¬ 
ting roof, Patsy found that she had a shelter 
which the rain could not penetrate. It was, in¬ 
deed, a haven of refuge. 

“I wish I hadn’t lost my pack,” she mourned. 
Her pack had rolled down the hill when she fell. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 241 


and until this instant she had not noticed her loss. 
“I could wrap my blanket around me. I’m so 
cold, and so tired; but I don’t dare lie down in 
these wet clothes. I may have to stand up all 
night.” In spite of her misfortunes Patsy gig¬ 
gled faintly at the idea of her standing up, stiff 
and soldierlike, all night long. Then she hap¬ 
pened to remember that she had two sandwiches 
and a cake of sweet chocolate in her knapsack. 
Regardless of the danger of taking cold, Patsy 
seated herself on a flat stone, her back against the 
solid rock behind her, and proceeded to eat her 
sandwiches. While she ate her alert eyes scanned 
every inch of her place of refuge. Off a little 
to one side, protected by the overhanging rock, 
was a pile of sticks and brush. It looked as 
though someone might have gathered them to¬ 
gether with the intention of building a fire. Pa¬ 
tricia was seized with a bright idea. In her knap¬ 
sack was a box of safety matches. If they were 
not soaked with water she could make a fire and 
at least partially dry her wet clothes. As she 
drew forth the box her eyes happened to rest on 
the outside flap of the knapsack that had been so 
securely fastened. It was flapping open now. 
Out of sheer curiosity she slipped her hand into 
the pocket. Her fingers came in contact with 




242 


PATSY CARROLL 


something stiff that crackled. She pulled it out 
and eyed it narrowly. It was a folded paper, 
about eight inches long and three inches wide. 
She unfolded it mechanically, smoothing out the 
creases. It was a typed document, written in 
legal form. Then she read: “I, Ebenezer Wel¬ 
lington, being of sane mind, do give and bequeath 

to my dear foster-daughter, Cecil Vane-” 

The paper fell from her limp hands as she cried 
out in wonder. There, in the heart of the wilder¬ 
ness, in the last place on earth where one would 
expect to find it, she had stumbled upon the miss¬ 
ing will. 





CHAPTER XXIII 


THE SEARCH 

B UT while Patricia was plodding up the 
mountain in a vain effort to find the hut 
which housed her friends, Mercutio Mac¬ 
beth Merrifield and Cecil Vane were ranging the 
wilderness on either side of the trail over which 
they had come to find her. It was by pure chance 
that, while the guide had started to patrol the 
woods at the right of the trail, Cecil had swung 
off to the left. Having been on innumerable 
camping expeditions with her foster-father, she 
was an experienced woodsman, and knew how to 
find her way about in the forest almost as well 
as did the guide himself. Therefore, she had no 
fear of being lost as long as she kept close to the 
trail; and if she chose to diverge from it, she 
could blaze her own trail back to it again. So 
she forged ahead through the pouring rain, trav¬ 
eling at a good pace in spite of slippery rocks, 

243 


244 


PATSY CARROLL 


soggy ground and dripping bushes and weeds. 
Every now and then she raised her clear voice in 
a long-drawn-out halloo, but only the echoes 
threw back a faint, mocking answer. 

On she went until, according to her calcula¬ 
tion, she had passed the spot where Patricia had 
stopped to tie her shoe. Here she paused to con¬ 
sider. It was hardly possible that Patricia had 
gone farther down the mountain. If she were 
lost, her whole aim would be to go up, hoping at 
any moment to find her friends. But suppose 
Patsy had slipped and fallen down the steep 
mountainside and was lying on the wet ground 
in the rain, seriously hurt or perhaps dead. Cecil 
shuddered. It was too dreadful to contemplate. 
She imagined she could see poor Patsy lying 
white and still among the weeds and bushes, or, 
worse yet, among the rocks. 

The girl set her teeth and clambered on down 
the mountain, vowing she would not return to 
the others until she had found the pretty, sunny- 
haired girl whose gracious ways had won for her 
Cecil’s undying affection. She had turned her 
attention strictly to the land at the left on the 
trail on her downward search. She was now a 
few rods below where Patsy had last been seen. 
The lost Wayfarer could hardly be farther 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


245 


down, even if she had fallen. Cecil glanced at her 
wrist watch. It was half-past five o’clock. Mak¬ 
ing her way back to the trail, she began the up¬ 
ward climb, thoroughly disheartened. The rain 
had now settled down to a monotonous drizzle, 
the forerunner of an early twilight. She soon 
left the trail and plunged into the low bushes at 
the right of it, scattering the raindrops from the 
silver-headed foliage. She now followed a little 
natural path that wound in and out among the 
rocks. As she trudged on she stopped now and 
then to send up a shrill call, half expecting to 
hear the old guide’s deep tones shout an answer. 
But the plaintive, complaining voice of the rain 
and the moan of the wind were the only sounds 
she heard. Wet to the skin and ready to drop 
with fatigue, she began to lag. If only she could 
find some rude shelter where she might rest for 
a little was her thought, as, panting and ex¬ 
hausted, she halted for a breathing spell and 
peered wearily about her. Suddenly her eyes 
grew wide with amazement. Was she dreaming, 
or was that the flickering of a fire that she saw 
farther up the mountainside? Spurring herself 
on to fresh effort, she made for the red glow. 
Now it was just ahead of her under that huge 
rock. She knew the place well. She and Daddy 




246 


PATSY CARROLL 


Wellington had often made a fire there and 
cooked their simple meal under its protecting 
shade. It was evident that Mr. Merrifield had 
stopped there to rest and dry his wet clothing. 

“Who-ee!” she shouted at the top of her lungs. 

“Who-ee!” came the answering call, but in a 
voice that caused Cecil to cry out with joy. 
“Pat-sy! Are you there?” Then with a fresh 
burst of speed, due to her joyful discovery, Cecil 
clambered up the path to where a bright-eyed but 
sadly bedraggled girl in a red corduroy suit, 
stood drying her wet skirts before a crackling 
blaze. 

“Cecil!” Patsy held out her arms. The next 
instant the two girls were laughing and crying in 
a fervent embrace. 

“Oh, Patsy,” sobbed Cecil, “I thought you had 
fallen down the mountain and were killed.” 

“I tried to do it, but didn’t succeed,” was 
Patsy’s half laughing, half crying response. “I 
fell and hurt my head. Then I walked and 
walked until I came to this place. I found some 
brush, and as I had some matches in my knap¬ 
sack I built this fire. What time is it, Cecil? 
I know I’ve been here for years. I smashed my 
watch when I fell.” 

“It’s twenty minutes past six,” answered Cecil, 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


247 


taking her arm from about Patricia’s shoulder 
long enough to glance at her watch. Then she 
hugged Patsy again. “I couldn’t stand it, 
dear. I left the others at the hut and came out 
to find you. Mr. Merrifield is looking for you, 
too.” 

“Do you know where we are, Cecil?” Patsy 
questioned anxiously. “If you don’t know, it 
looks as though we’d have to spend the night 
here.” 

“Yes, I know this place well. Daddy Wel¬ 
lington and I have often rested and cooked our 
meals here.” 

At the mention of that name Patsy looked at 
Cecil and began to laugh. 

Cecil eyed her with alarm. Had Patsy’s fall 
down the mountain affected her brain? 

“Don’t look at me that way, Cecil,” laughed 
Patsy. “I’m not crazy. I never was more sane 
in my life. I’m laughing because in another 
minute you are going to receive the surprise of 
your life. Come over here to the fire.” She took 
Cecil by the arm and led her to the fire. “Now 
hold out your hand and shut your eyes. Don’t 
look so scared. Really and truly I know ex¬ 
actly what I’m about.” 

Cecil’s hand was thrust forth hesitatingly. 




248 


PATSY CARROLL 


Then she closed her eyes. The next instant her 
fingers closed over a folded paper. 

“You can open your eyes and unfold the 
paper,” directed Patsy. 

Cecil obeyed. 

“Now read it,” ordered Patsy. 

Cecil fixed her glance on the now unfolded 
document. Then she gave a queer, gasping cry 
and let it fall from her hands almost into the fire. 
Patsy rescued it and handed it to her. “For 
goodness’ sake, don’t burn it up. Especially after 
we’ve had such a time hunting it.” 

“I can’t believe it. Where did it come from? 
It couldn’t have been hidden up here in the moun¬ 
tain.” Cecil shook with agitation. 

“I found it in the pocket of Mr. Ebenezer Wel¬ 
lington’s knapsack,” cried Patsy joyously. “Bee 
was right about things that are easiest hidden 
being best hidden. But she wasn’t right about 
the hiding place. No one would ever bother to 
look in that old knapsack. I never would have 
thought of it if I hadn’t broken the clasp when I 
fell down hill. I was hunting for my matches, 
and I noticed that the clasp was broken. I 
slipped my hand into the pocket just for curios¬ 
ity and found this.” She touched the lost will 
with her finger. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


249 


“Let’s read it together, Patsy dear.” Cecil 
wound a damp but affectionate arm about 
Patsy’s waist, and standing shoulder to shoulder, 
their eager young faces pressed close together, 
the two girls read the last will and testament of 
Cecil’s foster father, which made Cecil the sole 
heiress of all his possessions. 

It was not until the wonder of their discovery 
had died away that they began to think of the 
anxious watchers in the hut. 

“We must put out our fire and leave here at 
once, Patsy,” said Cecil, looking anxiously out at 
the gathering twilight. “It will be dark before 
we reach the hut unless we hurry. The rain has 
stopped.” 

“Are you sure you know the way, Cecil?” 

“Absolutely positive. Come on.” 

Half an hour later four sorrowful, white¬ 
faced women heard a sound that brought them to 
the door in a body. It was a long clear “Who-ee!” 
Up the trail and straight into their waiting arms 
straggled two rain-soaked, storm-beaten girls. 

“I told you I’d find her,” was Cecil’s saluta¬ 
tion, and then and there a great embracing be¬ 
gan, punctuated with eager questions, much 
laughing and a few glad tears. While they were 
in the midst of this little love feast Mercutio 



250 


PATSY CARROLL 


Macbeth Merrifield arrived with Hal and Rol¬ 
and, whom he had met coming up on his way 
down the mountain. 

“Cecil has something to tell you,” declared 
Patricia when the first burst of explanations had 
subsided. 

“No, you tell them, Patsy. You found it,” 
protested Cecil. 

“All right, I can’t keep it to myself another 
second. Cecil has come into her own. I found 
Mr. Wellington’s will in this old knapsack.” 

This startling news made almost as great a 
sensation as had the return of the two wanderers, 
and a lively discussion began as to what had best 
be done. 

“We can’t take the trail again to-night,” de¬ 
cided the guide, “but we had better start for Lake 
Placid the first thing in the morning. This mat¬ 
ter of Cecil’s must be settled as soon as possible. 
If we have good luck we ought to reach Adiron¬ 
dack Lodge day after to-morrow morning. It 
warms the cockles of my heart to think that vil¬ 
lain will soon receive his just deserts.” Mercu- 
tio Macbeth Merrifield glared dramatically about 
him. “Now, fair ladies,” he began, in his most 
impressive Shakespearean manner. “My advice 
to you would be to put these two darling damsels 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


251 


to bed and hang up their wet clothing to dry. I 
believe it would be wise for us all to retire for a 
night’s sleep. 

“ ‘Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care, 
The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath, 
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course, 
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.’ ” 

The guide raised both arms as though pro¬ 
nouncing a benediction. Then, coming back to 
everyday matters, he addressed the two young 
men. “Come, boys. Let us pitch our tent, but, 
unlike our friend, Henry W. Longfellow, we will 
not ‘fold our tents like the Arabs and silently 
steal away.’ We’ll stake it down just outside the 
cabin. Ladies, I regret that I cannot make your 
usual beds of pine boughs. I fear you would 
find them too damp for comfort. I fear also that 
you will find sleeping on the floor a trying ex¬ 
perience.” 

“Oh, no; we don’t mind such little things as 
being lost in the wilds and getting wet as drowned 
rats and falling down mountains and bumping 
our heads,” jeered Cecil. 

“I can stand it,” retorted Patsy with her boyish 
grin. “It’s an ill wind that blows nobody good. 




252 


PATSY . CARROLL 


What are a few bumps compared to the pleasure 
of unmasking a villain and establishing the 
truth?” Unconsciously she imitated the guide’s 
melodramatic tones. 

Far from recognizing himself, Patsy’s words 
inspired him to burst forth once more. 

“ ‘Truth crushed to earth shall rise again, 
The eternal years of God are hers; 

While error wounded, slinks away, 

And dies among her worshippers.’ ” 

Having delivered himself of this noble senti¬ 
ment, the old guide bowed profoundly, bade the 
Wayfarers a rumbling “Good night, ladies,” and 
followed by Hal and Roland, left the cabin. 




CHAPTER XXIV 


THE INHERITANCE 

W HILE the Wayfarers were meeting 
with numerous adventures on the trail. 
Miss Martha Carroll was having rather 
a lonely time at Wilderness Lodge. To be sure, 
she did not fail to congratulate herself every day 
on having been too wise to be dragged off on an 
expedition “through the woods and weeds,” as 
she was fond of putting it. Nevertheless, as the 
long summer days went by, she grew more lonely 
than she cared to admit. Mrs. Harding had not 
yet returned to the Lodge. Miss Martha’s 
brother, Robert Carroll, had again been obliged 
to delay his coming. She knew no one in Lake 
Placid save the Parks, and she had conceived a 
violent dislike for John, the chauffeur, who had 
aroused her suspicions; therefore she would not 
allow him to drive her about in Patsy’s car, which 
he had brought from Adirondack Lodge, accord- 
253 


254 


PATSY CARROLL 


ing to directions, on the day that the Wayfarers 
left it there. 

Greatly to her satisfaction and relief, she had 
neither seen nor heard anything of Rupert Gran- 
din. She decided in her own mind that she had 
frightened him away, and plumed herself accord¬ 
ingly. The story of the missing will, however, 
had impressed her far more deeply than she 
would confess. Miss Martha had a decided taste 
for romance, and she liked to think of herself as 
an elderly heroine, whose unceasing vigilance was 
calculated to keep the villain at a safe distance. 

If she had strolled down to the boathouse one 
sunny afternoon, however, she might have been 
jarred out of this beatific state of complacency. 
Two men were seated in the large canoe that 
had mysteriously disappeared and now had as 
mysteriously reappeared, talking in low tones. 

“Why didn’t you send me word that those kids 
were away?” was Rupert Grandin’s savage ques¬ 
tion. “With no one but the old girl here, I could 
hunt the will and she’d never know it. There’s 
a closet off the kitchen where Uncle Eb kept a 
lot of his traps. That’s the only place I haven’t 
turned inside out. I’ve a hunch that the will 
might be poked away among some of his stuff in 
that closet. It’s either there or in the library. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


255 


Edmunds and I want to go over the library 
again. We haven’t looked in the books.” 

“I sent you word, honest I did,” asserted John, 
the chauffeur. “I wrote to you to the Lake 
Placid Club. It was the morning they went 
away. I heard ’em talkin’ about a letter the old 
man wrote Miss Vane, sayin’ he’d made another 
will. I couldn’t hear all they said. She’s got 
your number, though.” 

“I never got your letter,” muttered Grandin. 
“I think I’ll take a look around the Lodge to¬ 
night after the old girl has gone to bed. Just 
let me get my hands on that will!” 

“I wouldn’t do it if I was you,” counseled 
John. “If Miss Carroll happened to hear a noise 
she’d come downstairs a-flying. She ain’t afraid 
of nothin’. It wouldn’t look very good for you 
if she caught you. She’d swear out a warrant 
for you sure. I got a better idea than that.” 
The chauffeur proceeded to lay his plan before 
Grandin. 

“That’s not such a bad idea,” conceded Gran¬ 
din when John had finished. “When can you 
pull it off? We can’t fool with this business. 
We’ve got to find the will before those kids come 
back here.” 

“To-morrow afternoon, if you do your part.” 




256 


PATSY CARROLL 


There was some further conversation between 
the two men, then Rupert Grandin made a 
stealthy exit from the boathouse, while John, the 
chauffeur, sneaked off in the opposite direction. 

At eleven o’clock the next morning Miss Mar¬ 
tha’s eyes were gladdened with the sight of a 
telegram containing the good news: “Arrived 
Saranac Lake this A. M., business finished three- 
thirty. Meet me at Riverside Inn with car. 
Robert.” 

Following on the heels of her joy, however, 
came the dismaying recollection that there was 
no Patsy to drive the automobile! Much as she 
disliked the idea, she would have to fall back on 
John for a chauffeur. It was, therefore, in her 
stiffest, most starched manner that Miss Martha 
informed John, for whom she sent one of the 
maids to the garage, that she wished the car at 
the door at not later than half-past two o’clock 
that afternoon. John received her request in the 
too-respectful manner for which Miss Martha 
particularly disliked him and went off about his 
business. 

At precisely half-past two by the grandfather’s 
clock in the living room the car was at the door. 
John assisted Miss Martha into the tonneau with 
his usual obsequious air, which she so despised, 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


257 


then took his place at the wheel and drove out 
into the highway. 

“How far is it to Saranac Lake, John?” in¬ 
quired Miss Martha coldly. 

“About ten miles, ma’am.” 

“Then we have an hour to make it in, so don’t 
undertake to speed this car,” was Miss Martha’s 
severe order. 

“Very well, ma’am,” answered the man re¬ 
spectfully. 

Miss Martha leaned back and viewed the pass¬ 
ing scenery with calm, approving eyes. As they 
bowled along they left the luxurious camps and 
cottages behind them and turned into a country 
road that stretched ahead, a narrow white ribbon 
between fields of living green. Here and there 
a farmhouse dotted the wide green stretches, but 
as they drove on the signs of civilization lessened 
and presently they came to a wide strip of woods 
where the road apparently ended in a sharp in¬ 
cline. The car gave a sudden jolt that threw 
Miss Martha forward. 

“What is the matter, John?” she asked sharply. 
“Where is the road? It looks as though it ended 
here. Be careful, or you’ll run the car down this 
hill and into those trees.” 

“I’m afraid I’ve taken the wrong road, 



258 


PATSY CARROLL 


ma’am/’ returned John politely. “Maybe you’d 
better get out while I turn the car around. 
There ain’t much room to turn, and it’s likely to 
skid.” 

“Then turn it at once. Remember, I am to 
meet my brother at three-thirty.” Miss Martha 
looked the picture of injury as she rose from the 
tonneau and allowed John to help her out. 

“Please stand over there, ma’am,” he directed, 
“out o’ the way of the car.” Springing back into 
the machine, he began to turn around, rather too 
rapidly for safety, so Miss Martha thought. She 
made a step toward the car, but it slipped past 
her and down the road. “It has skidded,” she 
said, half aloud, then she awoke to the amazing 
realization that, far from skidding, it was gliding 
down the dusty road at a high rate of speed. 
“Stop this minute, John!” she shrieked, but her 
indignant command cut the empty air. The auto¬ 
mobile was disappearing rapidly from view while 
Miss Martha Carroll stood in the middle of a 
lonely country road, with not the slightest idea of 
where she was, staring blankly after it. 

The sun was making ready for his usual bril¬ 
liant display of color in the west when a digni¬ 
fied, middle-aged woman, in a gray crepe de chine 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


259 


gown, which matched well her thick white hair, 
climbed a low fence and marched out on to the 
road that led directly to Adirondack Lodge. 
Ever since three o’clock Miss Martha Carroll had 
been vainly endeavoring to reach civilization by 
a triumphal progress across hills and dales. Now 
she paused and glared up and down the highway 
with the mien of an offended goddess, bent only 
on reaching the main highway. Miss Martha had 
put two and two together as she trudged along 
dusty roads and over endless fields, in her thin- 
soled shoes, and knew that she had been the victim 
of a plot. Being a shrewd old person, she had at 
once placed this outrage at Rupert Grandin’s 
door and was resolved that he should suffer 
for it. 

Intent only on reaching Lake Placid and tele¬ 
graphing her brother to come to her at once, Miss 
Martha resolved to hail the first passing automo¬ 
bile and rely upon the good nature of its occu¬ 
pants to see her safely to Wilderness Lodge. 
Fate seemed to be against her, however, for no 
vehicle of any description was in sight. Her eyes 
searched vainly up and down the smooth road 
for help, but no knight errant in the shape of a 
kindly disposed motorist appeared on the scene, 
an unusual state of affairs for such a well-trav- 




260 


PATSY CARROLL 


eled highway. Miss Martha’s small stock of 
patience had long since become exhausted. She 
was tired and dusty, moreover her indignation 
was at the boiling point. Rupert Grandin and 
John would be bitterly sorry for this afternoon’s 
work. When her brother Robert arrived he 
would deal most summarily with the offenders. 
At last, after perhaps fifteen minutes’ impatient 
watching and waiting Miss Martha decided re¬ 
luctantly to take the road again. 

But in which direction did the village of Lake 
Placid lie? She took a few irresolute steps up 
the road, then paused. What if she were going 
away from Wilderness Lodge rather than toward 
it? Oh, why did not some one appear along the 
road who could, at lest, tell her which way to 
travel? As if in answer to her unspoken appeal, 
far up the road she spied, after her long moments 
of weary waiting, an automobile being driven 
rapidly toward her. It was followed by another 
car, and as they neared her she noted that there 
were women in both of them. Surely one or the 
other of these two motor parties would be willing 
to convey her back to the village. She marched 
into the middle of the road and fluttered her 
handkerchief by way of a signal. But as the first 
automobile drew nearer the expression of intense 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


261 


dignity which she had assumed changed to one 
of unqualified astonishment. “Patsy Carroll!” 
she shrieked, and forgetting her dignity made for 
the automobile, which had now come to a stand¬ 
still, as fast as her feet would carry her. 

“Aunt Martha!” Patsy was out of the car in 
an instant, and in the arms of her aunt, whose 
stern old eyes were nearer to tears than she would 
have cared to confess. “What in the world are 
you doing away out here, and alone?” 

By this time the occupants of the two cars had 
deserted their automobiles and surrounded Miss 
Carroll. 

“I’ve been made the victim of a plot, Patricia, 
and Rupert Grandin is at the bottom of it,” was 
Miss Martha’s dramatic explanation. Then she 
proceeded to relate the events of that day, begin¬ 
ning with the receipt of the telegram and ending 
with, “I can see through the whole thing. They 
wanted to get me out of the Lodge and far 
enough away from it so I wouldn’t disturb them 
while they hunted for the will,” was her trium¬ 
phant conclusion. 

“By George, you’re right. Miss Martha!” 
cried Hal Parks, “but perhaps we can give them 
a surprise. Get into the car, folks, and we’ll see 
if we can’t break a few speed laws.” 




262 


PATSY CARROLL 


“How far are we from the Lodge?” asked Miss 
Martha curiously. 

“About five miles, madam,” the guide informed 
her. “You must have walked at least three miles. 
I know the place where your chauffeur played 
the dastardly trick.” 

The five miles to the Lodge were covered in a 
manner that would have horrified the makers of 
speed laws. Nevertheless, Patricia had had time 
to pour forth the account of the strange finding 
of the missing will. 

“I never heard anything like it in my life,” 
was her aunt’s amazed comment. 

“I hope we can catch those rascals red- 
handed,” declared Hal as they turned the last 
curve in the road before sighting the Lodge. 
“They will hardly expect such a surprise party. 
I’ll tell you what we’ll do. You take the wheel 
and bring this car up slowly, Patsy. Bee can 
drive our car. Mr. Merrifield, Roland and I will 
go on ahead and be the first installment of the 
surprise party.” 

Five minutes later the three men were hurry¬ 
ing up the rear approach to Wilderness Lodge, 
their eyes open for some sign of the intruders. 
Hal tried the back door of the Lodge. It yielded 
to his touch. He stepped softly inside, motion- 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 263 


ing to the other two men to keep close behind 
him. Passing through the kitchen, he made his 
way to the main hall. The door to the library 
was closed, but from within came the sound of 
low voices. “Now,” he whispered. Flingingopen 
the door, he strode in, the others following. 

A man, seated on the floor, among high piles 
of books, leaped to his feet with a muttered ex¬ 
clamation, scattered the stacks of books right and 
left. Another man, in the act of carrying a pile 
of leather-bound volumes across the library, cried 
out and dropped them. There was still another 
man engaged in going through the curio cabinet, 
who turned pale at sight of the intruders. 

"Just as we thought,” declared Hal. "Well, 
you didn’t find it, did you, Grandin? Too bad. 
It’s very annoying to know that there’s the least 
chance of Cecil coming into her own.” 

"I don’t know what you mean.” Rupert Gran- 
din’s white, set face belied his words. Then he 
made a sudden dash for the door. 

"Oh, yes, you do,” rumbled Mercutio Mac¬ 
beth Merrifield, stepping in front of Grandin and 
eyeing him menacingly. "A nice piece of ras¬ 
cality you and your partner, Edmunds, have per¬ 
petrated. But the way of the transgressor is 
hard.” 



264 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Oh, stow that rant,” sneered Grandin, “and 
get out of my way.” 

“Not yet, my friend. There are several per¬ 
sons who wish to see you. Cecil Vane is one of 
them. Miss Martha Carroll is another. Ah, yes, 
I hear them coming now.” Fastening an iron 
grip on Grandin’s shoulder, the guide swung him 
around and away from the door. A moment, and 
it opened to admit the Wayfarers and Mrs. 
Parks. Then the old hunter deliberately turned 
the key. 

“We got him, Cecil,” called out Hal cheer¬ 
fully. “We’ll let you tell him where he gets off 
at.” 

Cecil advanced until she stood looking squarely 
at the discomfited man. Her face was very white 
and she spoke in low, cutting tones. “The tables 
have been turned at last, Rupert. Thanks to 
these dear friends, Daddy Wellington’s will 
is now in my possession. I always believed you 
to be a rascal, you and Mr. Edmunds. Now I 
know it. I don’t need to tell you the contents 
of that will. You saw the duplicate before 
Mr. Edmunds destroyed it. Wilderness Lodge 
and all Daddy had is mine. You are the 
pauper.” 

Then she turned to the man who had been ran- 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 265 


sacking the curio cabinet and said sadly: “I wish 
for Barry’s sake that you had been honest and 
trustworthy. He must never know that you are 
not. Because I love him I am going to let you 
and Rupert go unpunished. Barry will event¬ 
ually learn that Daddy Wellington made a will 
and secreted it in the Lodge, but he will never 
know that his father conspired with a worthless 
man to cheat me of my inheritance. In order 
to clear your own name of suspicion I shall ex¬ 
pect you to see to the probating of this will in 
such a manner that the world will believe the 
whole affair due to the eccentricity of Mr. Wel¬ 
lington. For Barry’s sake you must protect 
your name. And now will you please go, all of 
you.” 

Cecil turned her back on the men who had 
dealt so treacherously with her. There was a brief 
silence. Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, the 
lawyer acknowledged defeat. “I am at your ser¬ 
vice,” he said. “Come, Grandin.” 

“Don’t be too sure of yourself,” snarled Gran¬ 
din, as he paused before Cecil. “Wills have been 
known to contain flaws. I’ll break this one. See 
if I don’t.” 

“Come on.” Mr. Edmunds’ voice was angrily 
authoritative. Grandin obeyed the voice, and the 




266 


PATSY CARROLL 


man John slunk out of the room after them, leav¬ 
ing Cecil and her friends together. 

“Cecil, my dear, allow me to congratulate 
you.” Mrs. Parks drew Cecil into her arms and 
kissed her gently. She had ever been the girl’s 
firm friend. 

“Next,” declared Patsy Carroll happily. “I’ve 
congratulated Cecil about fifty times since we 
read that blessed will together on the mountain¬ 
side in the rain, but I’m going to do it all over 
again.” 

Cecil was passed from one to the other of the 
women of the party and emerged from their 
demonstrations of good will, rosy and smiling. 
The men shook her hand and added their expres¬ 
sions of satisfaction at the wonderful change that 
had taken place in her affairs. 

“I can scarcely believe it is all true,” she fal¬ 
tered, her gray eyes luminous with emotion. 
“Yesterday I was just a poor newspaper girl, 
with nothing to call my own except my faithful 
Hamlet. And I owe everything to the Wayfar¬ 
ers ! Without their help I could never have come 
into my own.” 

“It’s just like a fairy tale,” said Beatrice 
Forbes dreamily, her imaginative mind leaping 
to the story possibilities of the remarkable res- 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


267 


toration of Cecil’s inheritance which she had des¬ 
paired of ever regaining. “Then the lovely prin¬ 
cess came into her kingdom, that the wicked ogre 
had so long ago stolen from her, and lived hap¬ 
pily ever after,” she murmured with a fond 
glance at Cecil. 

“ ‘Wicked ogre’ is a very suitable name for 
that horrible Rupert Grandin,” shuddered Mabel 
Percy. “I shall never forget the way he looked 
when he found that he was beaten. He was ex¬ 
actly like a wolf that had been cornered. He 
actually snarled and showed his teeth.” 

“And to think that if you girls had never come 
up here on a vacation, poor, dear Daddy Wel¬ 
lington’s last will and testament would still be 
tucked away in his old leather knapsack. I owe 
the Wayfarers a debt of gratitude that I am 
afraid I shall never be able to repay.” 

“You are not in our debt, Cecil dear,” laughed 
Patsy. “It is simply a case of ‘What is to be 
will be.’ We were merely the instruments of 
Fate. Doesn’t that sound exactly like a novel?” 

“I call it little short of a miracle,” asserted 
Miss Martha Carroll impressively. “Do you not 
agree with me, Mr. Merrifield?” Miss Martha’s 
respect for the sturdy, bombastic old woodsman 
now amounted to veneration. 




268 


PATSY CARROLL 


Mercutio Macbeth Merrified slowly raised his 
hand. It was a sure signal that he was on the 
eve of bursting into verse: 

“Let no one ask me how it came to pass. 

It seems that I am happy; that to me 
A livelier emerald sparkles in the grass, 

A purer sapphire melts into the sea!” 

He declaimed with dramatic solemnity. 

“We are all too happy to talk in ordinary 
everyday prose. If I could think of some nice, 
appropriate verse I’d certainly declaim it at this 
minute at the top of my voice,” was Patsy’s en¬ 
thusiastic tribute to the guide. 

He beamed on her in friendly fashion. Next 
to his devotion to the wilderness, Mercutio Mac¬ 
beth Merrifield liked nothing else quite so much 
as appreciation of his “art,” as he was wont 
fondly to refer to his never-to-be-suppressed 
prediliction for reciting. 

“I am sorry to bring you down from the 
heights, good people,” broke in Eleanor Perry 
briskly, “but really and truly I am almost 
starved. It has been years and years since lunch¬ 
eon!” 

“Thank you, Nellie, for your earnest words. 
I’m simply famishing by inches,” exaggerated 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 269 


Patsy. “What do you suppose has become of the 
cook and the maids? Come to think of it, we 
haven’t seen a sign of them since we came. That 
is strange, isn’t it?” 

“I’ll wager Rupert Grandin could answer that 
question,” put in Hal Parks. “I haven’t the 
least doubt that he and that rascally John sent 
them off to the village or on a fool’s errand to 
get them out of the way. You see, they thought 
Grandin was still master of Wilderness Lodge, 
so although it’s pretty certain he wasn’t a favor¬ 
ite with them, they would stand for being ordered 
about by him from sheer force of habit.” 

Hal’s confident explanation of the absence of 
the servants afterward proved to be correct. All 
three of them had been dispatched to the village 
on various commissions, and they did not return 
for some time after the camping party made 
their determined dash for the Lodge in Cecil’s 
behalf. 

“Knowing where they are won’t help us to 
refresh the inner man,” jeered Roland. “We’ll 
have to get busy and do the cooking ourselves. 
Isn’t that a delightful prospect?” 

“Let’s make a raid on the kitchen and see what 
cheer awaits us,” proposed Beatrice. “I can 
cook. I always get the dinner at home.” 




270 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Mother’s a dandy cook, too. Aren’t you, 
Mother?” insinuated Hal, fixing hopeful eyes on 
Mrs. Parks. 

“I think we shall be able to manage,” was Miss 
Martha’s spirited declaration. “I once took a 
prize at cooking school. I don’t believe I’ve quite 
forgotten how to prepare food.” 

Patsy, who stood behind Miss Martha, rolled 
her eyes at Mabel Perry with irresistible drol¬ 
lery. The idea of her stately aunt, who at home 
ordered the meals with the air of an empress, 
volunteering to play the role of cook amused her 
intensely. 

“On to the kitchen!” was Hal Parks’ cheerful 
cry, and with one accord the party obeyed it, 
when an energetic rummaging for commestibles 
began. 

Miss Martha Carroll took charge of the dinner 
campaign. As cook on so important an occa¬ 
sion she was in her element. It was soon de¬ 
cided, however, that the masculine contingent was 
a distinct hindrance, rather than a help in the 
preparation of the impromptu banquet. After 
Hal had broken a cup and Roland had pains¬ 
takingly covered himself with ignominy and 
raspberry jam in a vigorous attempt to open a 
can of preserves, they were unfeelingly banished 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


271 


to the library, there to await the welcome call to 
the feast. 

Half an hour later Patsy appeared at the 
library door, her auburn curls awry, a dab of 
flour ornamenting her saucy little nose. “Gen¬ 
tlemen, dinner is served,” she announced with a 
profound bow. “It wouldn’t be ready yet, if 
certain obstreperous persons, whom I am too 
polite to mention, had not been banished to the 
library.” 

“We forgive you,” beamed Roland charitably. 
“Will there be plenty to eat?” 

Patsy superbly ignored this pointed question. 

“Allow me.” Hall gallantly offered his arm 
and the two young people paraded to the dining 
room, followed by Roland and the guide. 

“You are to sit at the head of the table, Mr. 
Merrifield,” smiled Mrs. Parks. “Miss Martha 
is really our hostess, but she has resigned her 
place at the table in favor of you.” 

“I appreciate the honor, most noble lady,” 
rumbled Mercutio, seating himself with a flour¬ 
ish. “ ‘Let good digestion wait on appetite!’ ” 

It was a merry and substantial meal to which 
the hungry company sat down. Miss Martha 
had amply lived up to her cooking school honors 
and assisted by Mrs. Parks and Beatrice had 



272 


PATSY CARROLL 


done wonders. After it was over, they still 
lingered at the table in eager discussion of the 
afternoon’s stirring events. 

“It is my opinion, ladies, that you should not 
be left here without male protection to-night,” 
came from the guide when Mrs. Parks finally 
announced that she must say good-bye and re¬ 
turn to Singing Pines. “I will most cheerfully 
remain here on guard, if you will say the word. 
It would not surprise me if yon discomfited vil- 
lian were to return.” 

“I don’t believe he would dare,” came from 
Cecil. “There are too many of us here. At 
heart he is really a coward. I am fairly positive 
that all three of those schemers will lose no 
time in taking the first train for Albany. I must 
go there myself to-morrow to place the will in 
the hands of a faithful friend who will handle 
the details for me. I am ashamed to be obliged 
to say that I cannot trust Mr. Edmunds to carry 
out the matter alone.” Her pretty face fell into 
an expression of deep sadness. The knowledge 
that the father of the man she loved should have 
conspired with Rupert Grandin to cheat her of 
what was rightfully hers was bitter indeed. Her 
only consolation lay in the thought that Barry 
need never know. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


273 


“Then I beg to be allowed the pleasure of ac¬ 
companying you,” was the guide’s gallant pro¬ 
posal. “I feel that it is my duty to do so.” 

“Oh, will you come with me, Mr. Merrifield?” 
Cecil’s sad face brightened. “I shall appreciate 
it greatly. It will make things so much easier 
for me!” 

“I am at your service,” bowed Mercutio in his 
most theatrical manner. “You have but to com¬ 
mand me I” 

Although Mrs. Parks had announced her in¬ 
tention of returning to Singing Pines at once, it 
was fully an hour later before she and Roland 
and Hal drove away in their car. The guide 
remained until dark, then, receiving the confident 
assurances of the Wayfarers that they had no 
fears concerning the possibility of a return intru¬ 
sion from Rupert Grandin, he reluctantly de¬ 
parted, after humorously intoning: 

“‘Good night! Good night! Parting is such 
sweet sorrow 

That I shall say good night till it be morrow/ ” 

The Wayfarers accompanied Mercutio to the 
veranda in a body, and after seeing him on his 
way, by common consent they made for the liv- 



274 


PATSY CARROLL 


ing room for a protracted confab, so dear to the 
hearts of a congenial party of women. 

“Oh, look!” cried Patsy, pointing to a little 
pile of mail stacked on a table which stood near 
the living room door. “We have been so busy 
vanquishing villains that we quite forgot that 
such a wonderful institution as the United States 
Postal Service existed. Right this way, ladies! 
Step up, and Postmaster Patsy will hand you 
your letters. Hurrah! Here is one for me on 
the very top of the pile. It’s from Father.” 

Postmaster Patsy quite forgot her laudable 
offer of service as distributor of mail. Leaving 
her friends to shift for themselves, she hastily 
tore open the envelope containing her father’s 
letter and became deeply absorbed in its con¬ 
tents. 

“Oh, dear,” she wailed two minutes later. 
“Father can’t come up here after all. He has 
to stay in town to wait for a miserable man from 
Chicago, and after that he is going to New York 
City to stay for two whole weeks. By the time 
he is through with all that business, we’ll have to 
go home. Isn’t that provoking?” Her sunny 
face clouded with disappointment. 

“Then I think we had better begin to pack at 
once and go home,” announced Miss Martha, 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


275 


with unmistakable decision. “I am sure it would 
be desirable to do so.” 

“Oh, Auntie dear, how can you be so hard¬ 
hearted?” implored Patsy. “If we go away from 
Wilderness Lodge now we can’t have Cecil make 
us a visit. She can’t come here to live until her 
affairs are entirely settled, and she and I planned 
a lot of interesting stunts to do, while we were 
up there on the mountain in the rain. Please, 
please say you’ll stay, at least two weeks longer!” 

Five pairs of pleading eyes were fixed upon 
the arbiter of their present destinies. 

“I suppose you will give me no peace unless I 
say ‘yes,’ ” sighed Miss Martha. Seized by a 
sudden thought she added energetically, “Let me 
see the envelope that letter came in, Patsy.” 

Patsy obediently handed it to her aunt. Miss 
Martha put on her eyeglasses and scrutinized the 
postmark. “Just as I suspected,” she cried tri¬ 
umphantly. “I was quite sure I did not see that 
pile of letters on that table this morning. But I 
did meet that rascal John sneaking out of the 
living room when I came down to breakfast. I 
asked him what he wanted there, and he muttered 
something about looking for an automobile guide. 
Now I see it all! He took the mail and hid it 
because he was afraid that there would be a letter 




27 6 


PATSY CARROLL 


from Robert. He didn’t know Robert’s hand¬ 
writing, so he carried off all the letters. Then 
he put them back when he and this Grandin man 
came here to look for the will. If I had seen a 
letter here in my brother’s handwriting this 
morning I should have considered it my duty to 
open it, even if it were addressed to you, Patricia. 
I only wish I had! It will take me weeks to 
recover from that wretched walk I took.” Until 
this moment Miss Martha’s indignation over her 
wrongs had been entirely forgotten; now she 
put on the air of a martyr. 

“Oh, Auntie, you are a real sleuth!” was 
Patsy’s artfully admiring exclamation. “Sher¬ 
lock Holmes himself couldn’t have deduced bet¬ 
ter than you. You are a credit to the Way¬ 
farers !” 

“Really, Patricia, I hardly consider being 
called a ‘sleuth’ a very high honor. I have been 
told that detectives are an extremely rough class 
of men.” Nevertheless Miss Martha was in¬ 
wardly delighted at the compliment. “I merely 
used my powers of observation and a little com¬ 
mon sense,” she ended modestly. But a gleam in 
her eyes belied her protesting words. 

“So did Sherlock, Miss Martha. That’s why 
he became famous,” put in Cecil Vane slyly. “As 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


277 


a newspaper reporter I think I ought to stand up 
for detectives. I know from experience that they 
are worth cultivating, especially when one is try¬ 
ing to get hold of a big story. Most of them are 
really splendid, honorable men.” 

“I am glad to hear it, I am sure,” was Miss 
Martha’s dry comment. But she was not in the 
least influenced to change her opinion of sleuths 
in general, even though it flattered her to be 
accredited with their powers of penetration. 

It was eight o’clock that evening before the 
two maids returned. They found an eager com¬ 
pany of women awaiting their arrival. Hal 
Parks’ surmise that they had been purposely sent 
away proved to be correct. It was John, how¬ 
ever to whom they owed their unexpected holi¬ 
day. Just before bringing the automobile to the 
front of the Lodge he had hurried to the kitchen 
and informed them that Miss Carroll had sent 
word they might have the remainder of the day 
off. Knowing that Miss Martha was impatient 
to be on her way to Saranac Lake, he had been 
fairly sure that she would not visit the kitchen 
before leaving the Lodge, and thus foil his 
scheme. That he had not been wrong in his cal¬ 
culation was clearly proven when Miss Carroll 
sallied majestically forth not more than five min- 



278 


PATSY CARROLL 


utes afterward, without so much as a backward 
glance at the house. Once she had set her foot 
forward, Miss Martha was not one to turn 
back. 

“Hereafter,” was that worthy woman’s stem 
injunction when one of the maids had finished 
her timid recital, “you are to take orders from 
me, personally, and from no one but me. John 
has left the Lodge and will not return. That is 
all I require of you for the present, I believe.” 
Considerably awed and correspondingly curious, 
they beat a hasty retreat to their quarters, where 
they spent the next half hour in wondering what 
had happened during their absence, and why 
John had suddenly ceased to be a part of the 
household menage. They managed, however, to 
recover sufficiently from their astonishment to 
clear away the dinner dishes, the while wonder- 
ingly speculating as to who had prepared the 
meal. 

At nine o’clock that night the cook appeared, 
testified to the truth of the maid’s statements, 
was duly lectured by Miss Carroll and retired to 
her own particular realm of pots and pans, where 
she spent the remainder of her evening restoring 
the kitchen to its usual immaculate order, and 
expressing her uncomplimentary opinion of ama- 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


279 


teur cooks as she straightened and delved. Miss 
Martha had also ordered six o’clock breakfast 
for Cecil, which further disturbed her equa¬ 
nimity. 

The company of lately returned adventurers 
in the living room, having read their letters and 
discussed the stirring events of the afternoon to 
their hearts’ content, were at length obliged to 
confess that they were actually tired enough to 
go to bed. It was Eleanor Perry who first pro¬ 
posed retiring. “It has been a strenuous day, 
children,” she yawned, “and I am so sleepy I 
can’t sit up straight. Living in the woods and 
sleeping on bough beds is all very well, but just 
for once I’d like to sleep in a real bed.” 

“I am glad that one of you has the good sense 
to confess to being tired enough for bed,” ap¬ 
proved Miss Martha. “I fully expected hearing 
Patsy propose that we sit up until midnight, at 
least.” 

“Now, Auntie, you know you don’t mean 
that,” laughed Patsy. “I am afraid you intended 
to be just a little bit sarcastic. But I’ll forgive 
you, and to show you the fullness of my forgive¬ 
ness I propose we go upstairs this minute. I’ll 
tell you a secret. I’m almost as sleepy as Nellie. 
There! Isn’t that a noble statement? Aren’t 



28 o 


PATSY CARROLL 


you sorry you spoke so disrespectfully of your 
little niece?” 

“Do you suppose that horrid Grandin man 
would really dare to come creeping back here to¬ 
night?” asked Eleanor Perry nervously, with a 
timid glance toward the nearest window. 

“Nonsense, Nellie, dear,” assured Patsy; “he 
is probably miles away from here by this time. 
Do you think Mr. Edmunds would take him to 
their camp, Cecil, or do you believe they went to 
Albany?” 

Cecil flushed slightly at the mention of her 
prospective father-in-law’s name. “No, Mrs. Ed¬ 
munds does not like him—in fact she can’t en¬ 
dure him.” She said this with a positiveness not 
to be denied. 

“I might stay up on guard to-night,” was 
Bee’s valiant proposal. “I’m not so very sleepy. 
I could take the revolver and sit on that big oak 
bench at the head of the stairs. I wouldn’t be a 
bit afraid to do it.” 

“You will do nothing of the sort, Beatrice 
Forbes!” vetoted Miss Martha promptly. “We 
have had enough excitement for one day, and I 
don’t propose to add to it by allowing any of you 
silly children to lose your sleep doing guard duty. 
That is carrying matters a little too far. Go to 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


281 


bed, every one of you. Remember, Cecil expects 
to take an early train for Albany.” 

The Wayfarers were not loath to obey Miss 
Martha’s stern injunction. Nevertheless, a great 
deal of conversation, punctuated with frequent 
bursts of laughter, ensued before the household 
finally settled down for the night. Had they 
known that, at the very moment Miss Carroll 
was delivering her ultimatum, two men were sit¬ 
ting in the unlighted boathouse below the Lodge 
anathematizing the failure of their plans, the bliss 
of sound slumber which soon came to their tired 
eyelids would undoubtedly have been denied 
them. They had not yet seen the last of Rupert 
Grandin. 



CHAPTER XXV 


PATSY POSTS A GUARD 

I T seemed to Cecil Vane that she had scarcely 
closed her tired eyes in sleep when she was 
awakened by the sound of a rattling hail of 
tiny pebbles, striking smartly against her win¬ 
dow pane. True to his promise to be on hand 
to awaken her at five o’clock the next morning, 
Mercutio Macbeth Merrifield had promptly ap¬ 
peared on the lawn, at the hour appointed, to 
fulfill his mission. Cecil smiled as she glanced 
at the little French timepiece on her mantel. It 
was precisely five o’clock. Springing from her 
bed, and quickly slipping on her dressing gown, 
she pattered to the window, which had just been 
so successfully bombarded, and raising the sash, 
leaned out. “All right, Mr. Merrifield, I am 
wide awake. Oh, you have brought Hamlet! 
Dear old fellow! I must hurry and dress so that 
I can come down and hug him.” 

282 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 283 


At sight of his beloved mistress, and at the 
sound of her clear voice, the dog bayed an enthu¬ 
siastic welcome. Its frantic demonstrations of 
canine joy awoke Patsy and Beatrice, who in 
turn rushed to their windows overlooking the 
lawn to see what had caused the commotion 
there. 

“Oh, the old darling! I mean Hamlet. Just 
watch him. Bee!” exclaimed Patsy. Making a 
dive for her kimono, she raced back to the win¬ 
dow and called out gaily, “Good morrow, fair 
and noble sir! Good morrow!” 

Mercutio Macbeth Merrifield was not to be 
outdone. Doffing his broad black sombrero, he 
swung it about in a fantastic flourish, placed it 
over his heart and bowed in true courtier style. 
“Good morrow, beauteous lady,” he boomed. 
“Here stands your servant and your friend. One 
that attends your ladyship’s command.” 

“Well said! Well said!” applauded Patsy. 
Then, in saucy paraphrase of the immortal 
Shakespeare: 

“My sovereign lord, I do commend your zeal. 

I pray you tarry on the greensward here: 

We shall array ourselves with all expedience.” 




284 


PATSY CARROLL 


It was the guide’s turn to applaud. Of the 
four girls he liked this impulsive, grey-eyed 
daughter of the city the best. Her bubbling en¬ 
thusiasm and unfailing good nature, together 
with her sturdy loyalty to Cecil and her cause, 
had aroused in the old hunter a feeling of good 
will and fellowship that was to make them life¬ 
long friends. In Beatrice he found sympathy 
for his poetic moods, but in Patsy he realized 
the perfect comrade. As she had come to man¬ 
age everyone who learned to know her, by her 
gay, gracious ways, so she had found in Mer- 
cutio another faithful servitor, ready to do her 
bidding in whatever she demanded. 

Fifteen minutes later Cecil, Beatrice and 
Patsy were gathered about the old man on 
the lawn, fondling the wildly appreciative 
Hamlet and trying to see who could talk the 
fastest. 

“I’m so glad you brought Hamlet with you, 
Mr. Merrifield,” exulted Patsy. “He’s the best 
bodyguard we could possibly have.” 

“Oh, you don’t want him here with you while 
I am gone, Patsy,” remonstrated Cecil. “You 
might as well have a baby elephant on your 
hands.” 

“Oh, but I do,” insisted Patsy earnestly. “I 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


285 


think he’s splendid! See! He likes me a lot, 
already! Don’t you, old boy?” She knelt and, 
taking the dog’s great muzzle between her two 
soft hands, looked affectionately into the animal’s 
great brown eyes. 

“Of course he likes you. How could he help 
it?” Cecil laid a loving hand on her friend’s 
arm as Patsy rose from the ground. “But let 
me warn you, he’ll eat you out of house and home 
before I come back. I don’t believe you can coax 
him to stay, though.” 

“A mere matter of appetite doesn’t worry us 
the least little bit, does it, doggins?” queried 
Patsy lightly. Slipping her hand under the 
dog’s collar, she continued, “Will you be a nice, 
good Hamlet and take care of Patsy and the 
Wayfarers while Cecil is gone?” 

For answer, Hamlet broke away from her 
light hold and performed a series of enthusiastic 
leaps and bounds about her, as though he under¬ 
stood every word she had uttered. 

“There! You can see for yourself that he 
understands me. He will stay here now. You 
couldn’t drive him away.” 

“You have certainly made a conquest, Patsy,” 
laughed Cecil. “All right, Hamlet,” she patted 
the beast’s huge head, “you may stay and take 



286 


PATSY CARROLL 


care of Patsy. Of Patsy ” she repeated with em¬ 
phasis. “Do you understand?” - 

Hamlet went through with another series of 
frantic evolutions, then dropped to the ground 
at Patsy’s feet, and stared up at her, his doggish 
soul in his eyes. 

“Girls,” called a familiar, warning voice from 
the veranda, “come into the house at once. Re¬ 
member, Cecil must take that early morning 
train. She has just time to eat breakfast.” 

“Oh, gracious!” exclaimed Cecil, voicing her 
consternation, “I should say I would have to 
hurry.” She sped across the lawn, followed by 
Patsy and Beatrice. The old guide moved after 
them in dignified fashion. 

“Have you breakfasted, Mr. Merrifield?” 
asked Miss Martha, as he paused at the bottom 
step of the veranda. 

“I thank you, most gracious lady,” he bowed 
with his cavalier sweep. “I have already par¬ 
taken of a slight repast in my cabin.” 

“You had better join Cecil in a cup of coffee, 
at least,” urged Miss Carroll hospitably. “Most 
gracious lady” sounded distinctly pleasing to her 
ears. 

Mercutio salaamed his profound pleasure at 
the invitation and followed her into the Lodge. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 287 


Miss Martha led the way to the dining room, 
seated her guest and proceeded to pour, the 
coffee. Patsy and Beatrice hovered about the 
guide and Cecil as they ate, loudly bewailing 
their breakfastless state. 

“I might as well have ordered an early break¬ 
fast for all of us,” sighed Miss Martha, “then I 
should not be obliged to listen to these piteous 
lamentations. And still they come!” she added 
tragically as Mabel and Eleanor appeared in the 
dining-room doorway. 

“So you thought you would steal a march on 
us and eat up all the breakfast while we were 
taking our last forty winks!” exclaimed Mabel 
Perry. “This is Patsy Carroll’s work. I know 
her scheming mind.” 

“You mean you know nothing whatever about 
my so-called scheming mind,” contradicted 
Patsy. “Look before you speak! Do you see 
me going through the motions of eating, or poor 
Bee either? No; you do not. We are merely 
beggars at the feast. These lucky persons,” she 
included Cecil and the guide in a comprehensive 
wave of one hand, “are the breakfasters. We, I 
regret to say, are the famished hangers-on. 
Show the ladies how hungry you can look, Bee.” 

“Miss Carroll, Mary says she has breakfast 



288 PATSY CARROLL 


ready to serve if you’d like it now.” The maid 
announced this welcome news on the heels of 
Patsy’s command to Beatrice. 

“Then ask her to serve it at once,” returned 
Miss Martha. “It is evident she has studied the 
ways of this household.” 

“And tell her for me, she’s a jewel,” added 
Patsy, “and ought to have a medal for saving 
four lives.” 

“It is time for us to start, Miss Vane,” de¬ 
clared the guide. “We shall-” 

“Oh!” Patsy sprang from the table with a 
cry of consternation. “What a stupid I am. I 
never once thought of how you were going to get 
there. I’ll have my car at the door in three 
minutes.” 

For once Miss Martha Carroll looked posi¬ 
tively disconcerted. The excitement of the previ¬ 
ous day had caused her to forget completely this 
courtesy to her guest. 

“Don’t bother to do it,” smiled Cecil. “It isn’t 
far to the station, we can walk over there in a 
few minutes. Considering all that happened yes¬ 
terday it isn’t strange you should forget any¬ 
thing so really unimportant. Besides, I’ll tell 
you a secret. I wouldn’t miss that early morning 
walk for a good deal. So stay where you are. 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


289 


Patsy, dear, and finish your breakfast. We must 
start this very minute.” 

The four girls gathered around Cecil and em¬ 
braced her. Miss Martha kissed her affection¬ 
ately. Then the Wayfarers trooped out onto 
the veranda to see the travelers off. 

“Come back as soon as you can, Cecil!” called 
Patsy after them. 

Cecil turned and waved her hand, then swung 
along beside the towering form of the guide, a 
sturdy, independent little figure. 

“Cecil is a dear, and I love her,” commented 
Patsy as she slipped into her chair at the table 
and began her breakfast all over again. 

The Wayfarers kept up a lively stream of 
talk concerning Cecil and her affairs as they ate. 
One and all they had grown to adore this charm¬ 
ing girl whose life had so strangely crossed 
theirs. 

“What shall we do this morning?” asked 
Patsy as they rose from the table a little while 
afterward. 

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea to set the library 
to rights,” proposed practical Beatrice. “Those 
books are scattered all over the floor just where 
Rupert Grandin and his friends left them.” 

“Why not leave that delightful task to the 




290 


PATSY CARROLL 


maids?” proposed Eleanor. “I don’t feel so very 
strenuous this morning. I’d rather loaf.” 

“I am with you, noble sister,” said Mabel 
lazily. 

“All right, loaf away,” smiled Beatrice. “You 
won’t mind if I do a little straightening on my 
own account, will you?” She turned to Miss 
Martha. 

“I’ll help you, Bee,” volunteered Patsy. “Pm 
not afraid of work.” She turned impish eyes 
upon the indolent Perry sisters, who beamed 
amiably and said nothing. 

“I had thought of driving over to see Mrs. 
Parks, this morning,” began Miss Martha. “She 
has several new embroidery designs which she is 
anxious to show me, but I can put it off until this 
afternoon or to-morrow.” 

“No, Auntie, you needn’t. Patsy will never 
desert you,” interposed Patricia quickly. “You 
won’t mind if I go, will you. Bee? You can 
have the library and your beloved books all to 
yourself, since you insist on becoming a busy 
little laborer.” 

“Go ahead,” returned Beatrice earnestly. “I 
wouldn’t for anything interfere with Miss Mar¬ 
tha’s plan. Besides, I am sure I shall accomplish 
a great deal more alone,” she added slyly. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


291 


“You are a wicked girl!” Patsy made a rush 
at Beatrice, and taking her by the shoulders 
shook her gently. “There! You are punished 
for your disrespect to my august person,” she 
declared. 

“And you have shaken my hair down,” accused 
Bee. “Now do it up again.” 

“It looks better hanging in curls about your 
face,” parried Patsy. “Besides, I am no hair¬ 
dresser. I can undo, but I can’t do up anyone’s 
locks except my own Titian tresses.” 

“Then you had better attend to those 
‘Titian tresses’ at once,” advised Miss Martha 
dryly. 

“Madam, I will.” Patricia assumed a true 
Merrifield attitude which caused her aunt to 
smile and brought a laugh from her friends. 
Encouraged by their laughter, she continued her 
imitation of the bombastic old forester, finally 
bowing herself out of the dining room. 

Bent upon taking their ease, Eleanor and 
Mabel made for the veranda and soon made 
themselves comfortable in the big wicker chairs. 
Patsy ran upstairs to prepare for the drive, then 
went to the garage to bring out the car. 

Beatrice Forbes, however, was distinctly in the 
mood for reducing the scattered contents of the 




292 


PATSY CARROLL 


yawning book shelves to their usual places of 
staid order and dignity. An ardent lover of 
books, it was a positive affront to her to see them 
lying about the floor in such reckless confusion. 
But behind her love of order, she was filled with 
the desire to prowl undisturbed among the fas¬ 
cinating volumes comprising the collection which 
old Ebenezer Wellington had taken such pains 
to gather together. During the early days of 
their sojourn at Wilderness Lodge she had con¬ 
tinually haunted the library. More than once she 
had been dragged from the rapt contemplation 
of a rare volume by the energetic Patricia, to go 
canoeing or exploring the various nooks and 
haunts immediate to the Lodge. In spite of these 
frequent interruptions Beatrice had managed to 
gain a fair knowledge of the contents of the 
library and the arrangement of the books. Given 
plenty of time, she believed she could place them, 
or at least the greater part of them, in their 
original positions. 

On entering the beautiful though sadly disor¬ 
dered room that morning, she drew a deep breath 
of satisfaction as she stood for a moment in the 
center of the distressing upheaval of literature 
and tried to decide at which corner she had better 
begin her work. The books were not the only 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


293 


objects that had been disturbed. The contents 
of the large curio cabinet had been handled by 
careless, eager fingers and lay jumbled together 
on its wide mahogany shelves, while its huge glass 
doors were flung open. Before it an expensive 
marble bust of Shakespeare reposed helpless on 
its face. Bee gave a soft exclamation of positive 
horror as she rescued the unfortunate Bard of 
Avon from his uncomfortable position. She al¬ 
most imagined she caught a gleam of gratitude 
radiating from his cold, chiseled features, as she 
reverently restored him to an upright position. 
Then she fell to work upon the disordered cabi¬ 
net, endeavoring to remember the original po¬ 
sitions of the various objects as she had first seen 
them. This labor took up considerable time, but 
at length it was accomplished to her satisfaction. 
Closing the glass doors, she turned the key, which 
stood in the lock, and stepped back to scrutinize 
the effect of her patient effort. 

The rehabilitation of the book shelves proved 
a long and tiresome task. More than once Bee 
was tempted to place the books in the shelves 
regardless of classification and seek the comfort 
and rest of the veranda. But each time she put 
aside the temptation and went on delving and 
straightening with a dogged persistence which in 



294 


PATSY CARROLL 


later life was to prove one of her greatest assets 
in the struggle for literary success. 

Luncheon time found her still busily engaged. 
Miss Martha and Patsy had not returned from 
Singing Pines. Beatrice ate a hasty repast and 
hurried back to the library to the accompaniment 
of good-natured raillery from the Perrys. Two 
o’clock came and went. Beatrice labored on. At 
twenty minutes past three she viewed her work 
with commendable pride. Only a small set of 
swinging shelves of books, depending from a spot 
on the north wall of the library, clamored for 
attention. The set consisted of three shelves and 
the lowest of them alone had been ransacked. 

Beatrice paused before it, eagerly scanning 
the titles. Then she looked rather crestfallen. 
They were all in French and she was not familiar 
with the language. She gathered up the con¬ 
tents of the lowest shelf, strewn broadcast on the 
floor directly under it, and replaced the books 
as well as she could without knowing their sig¬ 
nification. She noted as she did so that the vol¬ 
umes on the upper shelves were thick with dust. 

“I might as well dust them and put them 
back,” she murmured. Suiting the action to the 
word, she began to dismantle the upper shelf, 
two books at a time, clapping them together and 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


295 


piling them one on top of the other on the floor. 
At last the shelf was empty. Bee reached for 
the dust cloth with which she had taken care to 
provide herself and began a vigorous wiping off 
of the shelf. Clouds of dust blinded her for an 
instant. Then she cried out in surprise. In the 
wall, concealed by the volumes she had just taken 
out was a tiny knob. She had stumbled upon a 
secret safe. 

“Well, of all things!” she exclaimed. “Wilder¬ 
ness Lodge seems to be a house of remarkable 
surprises. I wonder if Cecil knows about this, 
and what do you suppose is in that safe?” 

As there was no one about to answer her ques¬ 
tion, Beatrice was forced to content herself with 
the excitement of her discovery. Honorable in 
the highest degree, she would not permit herself 
even to take the knob in her fingers, let alone 
turning it to see if it would yield to her touch. 
“I’ll certainly have something interesting to tell 
the girls,” was her thought as, reluctantly turn¬ 
ing from the tantalizing knob, she reached for the 
recently dusted books and began to replace them 
in the order she had found them. On second 
reflection, however, she decided that as owner of 
Wilderness Lodge it was Cecil’s right to hear 
first of this strange discovery. She had no doubt 




29 6 


PATSY CARROLL 


that Cecil would be perfectly willing for the 
other three girls to know of this secret safe, but 
until Cecil herself said as much, Beatrice felt that 
honor bound her to silence. She hoped, how¬ 
ever, that Cecil would return to Wilderness 
Lodge that evening, for she yearned to tell Patsy, 
in particular, of the little knob so safely con¬ 
cealed behind the dust-covered volumes. 

“Well, my dear and most industrious Bee, I 
must say that you haven’t wasted your time,” 
called a gay voice from the library door. Patsy’s 
abrupt appearance in the doorway of the library 
startled Beatrice from her absorbed reflections. 
So intent had she been on the wonder of her dis¬ 
covery that she had not heard the returning auto¬ 
mobile which brought Miss Martha and her niece 
from Singing Pines. Patsy’s sudden appear¬ 
ance was the first intimation she had received of 
their return. 

“No, most estimable and beloved Patsy, I have 
not been what you might call idle,” Beatrice re¬ 
torted. She could not help wishing, however, that 
Patsy had been with her at the moment of her 
find, to share the secret, which she desired so 
greatly to impart to her chum. “Now tell me, 
upon your honor, does this room look like a 
library or does it not?” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


297 


“It does,” replied Patsy, wagging her auburn 
head in solemn approval of Bee’s industry. “I 
don’t see how you ever managed to put things to 
rights in so short a time. I am sorry I can’t com¬ 
pliment you on your appearance.” 

Beatrice laughed merrily at this thrust. Her 
hands and face were grimy and her pink and 
white gingham house gown bore liberal evidence 
of her dusty employment. “I know I am a 
sight,” she admitted ruefully, “but soap and 
water and a fresh dress will make me fit once 
more to mingle with my fellowmen, or rather, 
Wayfarers. Did you have a nice time at Singing 
Pines?” 

“Not what you might call a hilarious one,” 
smiled Patsy. “Hal and Roland were not there. 
Aunt Martha and Mrs. Parks talked fancy work 
until I really felt as though I could embroider, 
tat, make rag rugs or crochet a bedspread with¬ 
out the slightest difficulty.” 

“Then they must have had an inspiring effect 
upon you,” nodded Bee soberly. Patricia’s ab¬ 
horrence of the various artistic crafts so dear to 
the average feminine heart was well known to 
her friends. 

Patsy’s only answer to this remark was an 
impious grin. “Where is Hamlet?” she asked 



29B 


PATSY CARROLL 


irrelevantly, “Did you give him something to 
eat?” 

“Why, no. I forgot all about him.” Bee 
looked somewhat abashed. “Poor, dear old fel¬ 
low! Let’s go and find him. I’ll apologize and 
feed him at the same time. I suppose Mab and 
Nellie forgot him, too. They went down to the 
boathouse a little while ago and haven’t come 
back yet. At least, I don’t think they have.” 

On interviewing Mary, the cook, the girls 
found that Hamlet’s wants had long since re¬ 
ceived attention. “Sure, and I fed him till he’d 
eat no more,” was her cheering assurance. “But 
mind what I say, he can gulp down more vittles 
than any ten dogs. Don’t I know that baste? 
I ought to, seeing it’s my own hand that always 
fed him when Miss Cecil was here, God bless 
her.” 

“Won’t she be surprised when she hears that 
Cecil is coming back to Wilderness Lodge for 
good?” smiled Patsy, as they stepped from the 
kitchen and strolled down the path to the boat¬ 
house. Beatrice had proposed that they look up 
the Perry girls and take the canoes out on the 
lake for a while before dinner. But it was their 
turn to receive a surprise when Mabel Perry, 
catching sight of them, hurried toward them with, 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


299 


“Girls, the boathouse is locked! Do you suppose 
that hateful John still has the key?” 

“Of course he has it! How provoking!” ex¬ 
claimed Patsy, frowning. “Now we can’t take 
the canoes out or have any fun on the lake. The 
worst of it is, how can we get it again? John 
won’t come back here, that is certain.” 

“Perhaps he will turn the key over to the 
honorable Rupert Grandin,” suggested Mabel. 

“Even if he does, we won’t see it again until 
Cecil’s affairs are settled, or rather we won’t see 
it at all, because we shall have left Wilderness 
Lodge long before that,” reminded Patsy. 

“Why not telephone for a locksmith and have 
him come up her and take an impression of the 
lock. Then he can make a key to fit it,” pro¬ 
posed the practical Beatrice. 

“That is a brilliant inspiration, Bee. Let us 
act upon it this minute. Come on, girls.” 

Patsy hurried back to the Lodge, her friends 
at her heels, bent on carrying out Bee’s sugges¬ 
tion. It was not until the telephone book lay 
open before her that she realized that in order to 
enlist the services of a locksmith it was quite 
necessary to know his name. With an impatient 
exclamation she turned to the business directory 
and scanned the list of locksmiths. * 



300 


PATSY CARROLL 


“We are a whole flock of geese,” she uttered 
disgustedly. “It’s after five o’clock now. Even 
if we secured a man to do the work, we couldn’t 
have the key before to-morrow afternoon. Per¬ 
haps it would be best to wait until Cecil comes. 
This is really her house now, you know.” 

“Do you think Cecil will be home to-night?” 
was Bee’s anxious question. 

“I doubt it,” returned Patsy. “It wouldn’t 
surprise me if she didn’t return for two or three 
days. She will have to see the lawyer and the 
editor of her paper, and perhaps she has other 
business to transact. If she comes back by to¬ 
morrow night, she’ll do well.” 

Beatrice looked a trifle disappointed. She had 
hoped for Cecil’s early return. 

Patsy noticed the slight shadow on her friend’s 
face. “What makes you look so solemn, Bee? 
Cheer up. The worst is yet to come—the best, I 
mean. Let me tell you a secret. Your little 
friend Patsy is going to give a grand celebration 
before we leave here. I planned it on our way 
home from Singing Pines. We are going to give 
a farewell dinner to Mercutio Macbeth Merri- 
field and invite the Parks and Roland Carroll. 
Isn’t that glorious news?” 

“I should say so,” breathed Mabel Perry, 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


301 


clasping her hands in anticipation of the coming 
festivity. 

Seating themselves on the steps of the little 
porch at the back of the Lodge, the Wayfarers 
were soon deep in ardent discussion of the coming 
event. They made so much noise that they awak¬ 
ened Hamlet, who, recumbent at one side of the 
Lodge in the shade of a tree, was enjoying the 
comfortable afternoon siesta of a well-fed dog. 
He rose, lazily stretched his huge body, and came 
lumbering around one corner of the house to view 
his disturbers. He paused at sight of the four 
girls, then walked straight to Patsy and laid his 
great head against the soft little hand she ex¬ 
tended to him. 

“There!” she cried triumphantly. “You can 
see for yourselves which one of us he likes. 
Aren’t you awfully jealous?” 

“Not I. I am just a little bit afraid of him,” 
confessed Eleanor Perry. “He’s so big. If ever 
he made up his mind to eat one up—well—I’d 
prefer not to be the victim.” 

“Nonsense,” laughed Patsy. “You wouldn’t 
harm the Wayfarers, would you, doggie? You 
are going to take care of us, aren’t you?” 

Hamlet lifted his head from Patsy’s hand and 
gave a deep, resounding bay. 




302 


PATSY . CARROLL 


“My goodness, how he startled me!” Mabel 
Perry had sprung to her feet as the dog lifted up 
his voice, as though in answer to Patsy’s ques¬ 
tion. “I’m going into the Lodge. I haven’t half 
so much faith in that dog as you have, Patsy 
Carroll. Besides, I wish to do my hair again 
before dinner.” 

“Really, children, I am ashamed of myself,” 
apologized Bee. “I had forgotten all about my 
grimy hands and face, not'to mention this dress. 
You’ll have to excuse me, too. We will leave 
you and Eleanor, Patsy, to cultivate Hamlet’s 
friendship.” 

Eleanor, however, did not especially yearn to 
know Hamlet better, so the three girls left Patsy 
fondling the highly delighted Hamlet, who ap¬ 
peared quite unconcerned at their lack of appre¬ 
ciation. 

Dinner that night was an extremely quiet 
meal. The reaction from the excitement of yes¬ 
terday had set in, and the Wayfarers were fairly 
talked out. They sat about the living room that 
evening, a rather subdued company. Miss Mar¬ 
tha embroidered, Beatrice read, Mabel Perry 
wrote letters and Eleanor played softly on the 
piano, until tired even of evoking sweet sound 
she curled up in a big chair and went to sleep. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


303 


Patsy, alone, was restless. From time to time 
she went to the window and peered out into the 
night. The sky was darkly overcast and all out¬ 
doors lay swathed in blackest shadow. She tried 
to read, but could not settle down to her story. 
She flitted to the piano, dashed off a few bars of 
energetic ragtime that set her friends’ feet to 
tapping, then rose and prowled restlessly about 
the room, only to return to the window again. 
In response to Miss Martha’s adjurations, “Do 
sit down and compose yourself, Patricia,” she 
merely answered, “I can’t do it, Auntie. I know 
I’m a nuisance, but I feel so wide-awake I know 
I sha’n’t sleep a wink to-night. Please let me 
wriggle and try not to mind the wriggler.” 

At eleven o’clock Miss Martha laid aside her 
embroidery. “It is time for us to go to bed,” 
she announced. “Cecil will not come to-night. 
I must see that the front of the house is securely 
fastened. Patsy, you and Beatrice can look to 
the back of the Lodge.” 

“You don’t think anyone would—would try to 
disturb us, do you. Miss Martha?” asked Mabel 
timidly. 

“Certainly not,” came Miss Carroll’s prompt 
answer. Intrepid adventurer that she was, Miss 
Martha preferred not to entertain any such fears, 



3°4 


PATSY CARROLL 


yet deep in her heart she knew that something 
of this very thought had prompted her to see that 
the entrances to the Lodge were securely fast¬ 
ened against possible intruders. 

“Don’t say a word about it, but I’m going to 
bring Hamlet in to-night,” whispered Patsy to 
Beatrice as they started on their errand. “Then, 
if any one should happen to come prowling 
about, I can have him handy. If I leave him out 
of doors he might run away and go back to Mr. 
Merrifield’s cabin. You know Cecil said that she 
didn’t believe he’d stay with us. I don’t agree 
with her. I think he would. Still, I am not 
going to take chances on losing our chief de¬ 
fense. If he should happen to be suddenly 
seized with homesickness for his forest haunts, he 
might leave us in the lurch.” 

“Patsy,” Beatrice turned thoughtful eyes on 
her companion, “do you believe Rupert Grandin 
might come back here and try to get into the 
house while we are asleep? Mabel must have 
been thinking that. Your aunt isn’t afraid, yet 
I can’t help feeling that we haven’t seen the last 
of that man.” 

“He would be foolish to try it,” retorted Patsy. 
“There isn’t anything here that he could steal, 
unless he tried to make off with the silver or the 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


305 


curios or some of those rare books. He moved 
out his personal belongings before we came to 
the Lodge, or I suppose he did. He knows, very 
likely, that he can obtain anything that he hap¬ 
pened to leave here when the will is all settled.” 

“But perhaps that-” Beatrice paused ab¬ 

ruptly, her color rising. She had been on the 
point of reminding Patsy of the secret safe, then 
had recollected in the same instant that her lips 
were sealed so far as it was concerned. 

Luckily Patsy had not heard the beginning of 
her remark. They had reached the back door 
and stepped out on the porch. Patsy was strain¬ 
ing her eyes in the darkness to locate the dog. 
“Hamlet! Come, boy!” she called softly. An 
indistinct shape rose at the side of the Lodge and 
bounded toward them. Taking firm hold of his 
collar, Patsy led Hamlet into the house. “Quiet, 
boy. Good old Hamlet,” she crooned. 

In wise understanding, the result of long train¬ 
ing by the old hunter, Hamlet walked stolidly 
beside her, without uttering a sound. Once in 
the kitchen, she led him to one corner of the 
room. “Lie down,” she commanded softly. The 
dog obeyed. Kneeling beside him, she patted his 
head, saying over and over: “Good dog. Be 
quiet. Hamlet must stay here to-night.” For 





30 6 


PATSY CARROLL 


answer he licked her hand, sat up and offered her 
his paw, then stretched himself out, his eyes on 

her. 

“He knows,” she whispered to Bee. “He gave 
me his paw. That’s as good as his word. Good 
night, boy.” With a last reassuring pat she 
rose, and turning out the electric light, the two 
girls left the kitchen to its lonely but resigned 
occupant. 




CHAPTER XXVI 


ALL ON ACCOUNT OF HAMLET 

“^TTT THAT kept you girls so long?” de- 
V/\/ manded Miss Martha as they ap- 
" " peared in her room. 

“Were we gone long?” inquired artful Patsy. 
Then she cleverly changed the subject. Linger¬ 
ing for a few moments in Miss Carroll’s room, 
they were finally ordered to bed by that worthy 
arbiter of hours. Beatrice, tired with her day’s 
work in the library, prepared hastily for sleep 
and tumbled into bed and instant dreams. True 
to her word, however, Patsy felt more wide 
awake than ever. She heard the grandfather’s 
clock downstairs strike twelve. After the last 
stroke died away an almost uncanny silence fol¬ 
lowed, broken only by the sound of Bee’s regu¬ 
lar breathing. Patsy lay staring into the dark¬ 
ness with the feeling of an adventurer who has 
suddenly stumbled upon a new world. This 

307 


3 °B 


PATSY CARROLL 


curious wakefulness was a decided novelty to her, 
and she«reveled in it. 

“One!” The big clock had spoken again. Its 
solemn voice boomed forth the hour, just as she 
was dropping off to sleep. It aroused her once 
more to alert wakefulness. This time Patsy was 
not quite so well pleased. She was now growing 
a little tired of the oppressive stillness, and the 
novelty of being a night owl had begun to wear 
off. Settling her head on her pillow she pre¬ 
pared to leave this too silent world of night be¬ 
hind her. She closed her eyes, only to open them 
again. A faint, far-off sound smote her ears. 
She sat up in bed and listened. There it came 
again! Perhaps it emanated from her aunt’s 
room, or that of the Perry girls. Noiselessly 
Patricia reached for her kimono, slipped into it 
and swung her feet to the floor. Feeling for 
her bedroom slippers, she put them on and stole 
to the door. Soundlessly she turned the dead- 
latch, her other hand on the knob. Carefully 
opening the door she stepped over the threshold 
and out into the hall. Pausing before her aunt’s 
door she waited. Absolute quiet lay behind it. 
Across the hall in the Perry girls’ room silence 
reigned. It seemed to Patricia as though hours, 
rather than minutes, passed, as she stood there, 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


309 


listening for a repetition of the sound that had 
aroused her. 

What was that? Patsy’s heart gave a sudden 
leap. Downstairs something or someone was 
stirring. Startled into action, she stole to the 
head of the stairs, her heelless kid slippers serving 
to deaden the sound of her stealthy progress. 
Recollection caused her to halt there, smiling at 
her own fears. Now she understood. Hamlet 
had grown restless and was prowling about the 
kitchen. She would go down and quiet him be¬ 
fore he startled the sleepers by making further 
commotion. She could imagine her aunt’s dis¬ 
gust at being thus disturbed, and almost hear her 
say, “Really, Patricia, I fail to see the wisdom 
of bringing that noisy beast into the house for 
the night.” 

Her foot was on the first step of the wide stair¬ 
case that opened into the main hall, when a faint 
click from below caused her to draw it back with 
a startled gasp. That click was exactly like the 
sound a deadlatch gives out when a door is 
opened, and it came, not from the kitchen, but 
from the direction of the library. Shaking with 
apprehension, Patsy crouched in the darkness, 
peering down the stairs with frightened eyes. 
Then a wave of courage swept back her first 




3 10 


PATSY • CARROLL 


shock of timidity, bringing with it the determina¬ 
tion to investigate the meaning of that ominous 
click. But she did not propose to investigate 
alone and without protection. At the end of the 
hall was the entrance to the back stairs. Patsy 
made for it. Happily for her, the door stood 
ajar. Like a wraith of the night she descended 
the narrow staircase, carefully feeling her way, 
lest she stumble and betray to the intruder, who¬ 
ever he might be, that his undesired presence 
had been discovered. The stairway opened 
directly into the kitchen. Her hand was on the 
knob of the door, when a stirring within informed 
her that Hamlet had heard her. She wondered 
that he had not been as quick to hear that other 
sound and raise the alarm. With a lightning 
movement she swung open the door. In the 
next second her hand found the electric switch 
at one side of it, flooding the room with light. 
The low, menacing growl that rose in Hamlet’s 
throat died at sight of her. He ambled forward 
to meet her with an apologetic wagging of his 
tail, as though to say, “Excuse me, I took you 
for a burglar.” 

“Quiet, Hamlet,” Patsy commanded, slipping 
her hand under his collar and clutching it with 
firm fingers. Listening intently, she realized 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


3 ” 


why Hamlet had not been aroused. The kitchen 
lay at the opposite end of the house from the 
library and the heavy oak door which she had 
closed so carefully to shut the dog in, had pre¬ 
vented him from hearing that which had startled 
her. Had the library been furnished with a like 
door, she, too, would have heard nothing. It was 
entirely due to its wide, curtained doorway that 
the faint disturbance had floated up to her acute 
ears. 

“What a silly I was to shut Hamlet off from 
the rest of the house and expect him to be a good 
watch dog,” was her chagrined reflection as she 
stood for an instant to reconnoitre. 

But she was losing time. She must act and 
act quickly, if she expected to surprise this in¬ 
truder of the night. With the repeated, whis¬ 
pered injunction, “Quiet, boy, quiet,” she ad¬ 
vanced to the door that led into the dining room, 
leading Hamlet, who, aside from a single muffled 
growl and the bristling of his hair, which denoted 
that he scented danger in Patsy’s strange be¬ 
havior, was behaving admirably. 

Again she faced the delicate task of sound¬ 
lessly opening still another door, made doubly 
difficult by reason of being forced to open it with 
one hand. She did not wish to loose Hamlet 




312 


PATSY CARROLL 


until she had reached the living room. Greatly 
to her satisfaction, the door just missed being 
tightly closed. But as she swung it back, Ham¬ 
let decided to take matters into his own keeping. 
He made a long leap forward, dragging Patsy 
with him. She felt her hand slip from his collar 
and had just time to utter in a sibilant whisper, 
“Catch him, boy,” when the dog bolted through 
the dining room and across the hall to the living 
room. Patsy heard a reverberating crash, min¬ 
gled with the sound of Hamlet’s terrifying bay. 
Then a muffled cry of fear went up, followed 
by, “Let me go, you brute,” in snarling, yet 
strangely familiar tones. 

Throwing discretion to the winds, Patsy flitted 
across the living room toward the danger zone. 
The dog was filling the darkness of the library 
with a ferocious growling that boded ill for the 
owner of that rage-choked voice. Fumbling for 
the switch—she knew its exact location—Patsy 
snapped it. With the change from darkness to 
white, penetrating light, a never-to-be-forgotten 
sight accosted her eyes. In one corner of the 
library lay a man, pinned to the floor by the 
weight of Hamlet’s huge body. The dog’s teeth 
were bared wickedly as he crouched across his 
discomfited foe, uttering furious growls of men- 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


3i3 


ace. The intruder’s face wore an expression of 
demoniac rage, the fury of defeat, as he turned 
it toward Patsy, who advanced boldly, her gray 
eyes blazing with scorn. All thought of fear 
had fled. She saw only the coward who, not con¬ 
tent with robbing a girl of her inheritance, had 
crept back ilnder the cover of the night to com¬ 
mit further depredation. 

“Well, Mr. Rupert Grandin,” she burst forth, 
“you decided to come back, didn’t you? I am 
not so very much surprised. It’s evident you 
didn’t know we had a protector. Hold him, 
Hamlet!” she commanded. 

The dog began a fresh succession of savage 
growls, as if in answer to Patsy’s command. 
From the floor above the noise of opening doors, 
together with the hum of women’s voices and 
the patter of feet was borne to her ears. The 
house was awake in earnest. 

It was the valiant Beatrice who, with their 
faithful little revolver grasped in one steady 
hand, first reached the scene of action. She 
darted into the library just in time to hear Ru¬ 
pert Grandin say, “Call off this dog, you young 
vixen, and let me go about my business. I came 
here to-night to get something that belongs to 



3 H 


PATSY CARROLL 


Beatrice’s eyes traveled to the swinging shelves 
of books. The upper shelf was bare and the 
door of the secret safe stood wide open. What¬ 
ever it had contained, it was now empty. 

“He’s been robbing the secret safe, Patsy,” 
she gasped. “Don’t let him get away.” 

“Oh, he won’t get away very fast,” assured 
Patsy. “Does it look as though he would?” She 
pointed triumphantly at his savage captor. “But 
what do you mean by a secret safe, Bee? Did 
Cecil tell you about it, and is it that hole in the 
wall?” 

“I found it when I was cleaning up the 
library.” Bee had now leveled her weapon di¬ 
rectly at Grandin. Miss Martha, Mabel and 
Eleanor now peered into the room with fright¬ 
ened faces at the dramatic tableau. “I don’t 
know what was in the safe, but whatever was 
there is gone. He,” indicating Grandin, “must 
have taken it. We’ll have to search him.” 

At the words “search him” Miss Martha Car- 
roll found speech and action. She stalked across 
the library with the gallant bravery of a general 
about to demand the surrender of an enemy’s 
sword. It was she who now took command of 
the scene. “Keep your revolver trained on him, 
Beatrice. Patricia, call off that dog.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


3 i 5 


“But, Auntie, he might-” began Patsy. 

“Call off that dog,” firmly repeated Miss 
Martha. 

This was easier to command than to do. Ham¬ 
let, recognizing an ancient enemy, had no inten¬ 
tion of letting Grandin go. It took repeated 
efforts on Patsy’s part to induce the great beast 
to lumber to his feet, thus freeing the unfortunate 
man from the suffocating weight of his huge 
body. It took but a second for Grandin to spring 
erect. He made a movement as though about to 
flee, but Hamlet, whose eyes had never left him, 
blocked his path, while Bee’s revolver pointed out 
significantly the hopelessness of flight. As he 
leaped to his feet, five pairs of eyes discovered 
simultaneously that his right hand clutched 
something inside his coat which caused a distinct 
bulge on his left side. 

“Give me whatever you have hidden inside 
your coat,” ordered Miss Martha sternly. 

With a muttered imprecation, Grandin flung 
a long, flat leather case at her feet. “There, I 
hope you’re satisfied,” he snarled. “Keep it if 
you dare. It will be a pleasure to me to bring 
you into court for stealing. I’ll have every one 
of you arrested the minute I get out of here.” 

“Take off your coat, then raise your arms 





316 


PATSY CARROLL 


above your head,” was Miss Martha’s sole re¬ 
sponse to this threat. “Patricia, I see nothing 
to do but to search this man.” 

Rupert Grandin’s livid face was suffused with 
a dull red. He jerked off his coat and flung it 
down. Patricia gingerly went through the pock¬ 
ets of the garment. 

“Nothing of any importance in them except 
this,” was her announcement as she handed the 
coat to its owner with an ironical bow. She held 
up a key. “It’s the key to the boathouse,” she 
explained to the others. 

“Listen to me.” Miss Martha planted herself 
squarely in front of Grandin. “I do not believe 
that case or its contents belong to you. How¬ 
ever, to give you the benefit of the doubt, it shall 
remain unopened until Miss Vane returns. If, 
as you say, it is yours, I shall send it to Mr. 
Edmunds with instructions to hand it to you. 
Now, leave this house, and never dare to enter 
it again while we are here.” 

“You’ll be sorry for this outrage,” stormed 
Grandin. Nevertheless he made a step toward 
the door. Hamlet promptly intercepted him 
with a liberal display of ivory. “Call off that 
dog,” raged the defeated intruder, halting in his 
tracks. 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


3i7 


Patsy fastened firm hands about Hamlet’s col¬ 
lar. “Be quiet, boy,” she soothed. “Stand still.” 
Then to Grandin. “You had better go quickly. 
I can’t hold him long.” 

Acting upon this advice the man darted for 
the wide doorway. The patter of running feet, 
followed by the reverberating slam of the heavy 
front door, apprised the Wayfarers that their 
unwelcome visitor had taken Patsy’s advice. He 
was not a second too precipitate in leaving. 
Hamlet jerked himself free of Patsy’s hold with 
a violence that threw her forward on her knees. 
They heard the dog’s powerful body fling itself 
against the unyielding barrier as he uttered ter¬ 
rifying bays of rage at the escape of his prisoner. 

Patsy called to him again and again. At last, 
satisfied that he was effectually cut off from his 
quarry, the dog ceased to bay and trotting to 
the doorway, paused, fixing accusing eyes on the 
group of women, as though to say, “Why didn’t 
you let me have him?” Patsy continued to coax 
him until he stalked sedately up to her and laid 
his huge muzzle in her outstretched hand. 

The commotion made by Hamlet had now 
awakened the cook and the two maids. He had 
hardly ceased his angry assaults upon the hall 
door when three badly startled servants showed 




3i8 


PATSY CARROLL 


themselves, clad in such nondescript garments as 
they had managed to don in their haste to reach 
the scene. 

“Sure, ye might know it was that dog,” mut¬ 
tered the cook. “Yet he roared loud enough for 
forty dogs. It was meself left him out. How 
he got in, I’ll not be saying. What ails the 
baste?” 

“I brought him in,” said Patsy quietly. “He 
is all right now.” 

“Your former master, Mr. Rupert Grandin, 
has been here,” was Miss Martha’s astonishing 
revelation. “Thanks to Hamlet, he did not stay 
long. If he tries at any time to gain admittance 
to this house while we are here, through any one 
of you, you are to refuse to admit him, by my 
orders. Now you had better go back to your 
beds. There will be no further disturbance to¬ 
night, I think.” 

Although the desire to linger and ask curious 
questions was paramount. Miss Carroll’s word 
was law. The three women retired, not to sleep, 
but to speculate among themselves as to just 
what had actually occurred. 

After they had vanished, the Wayfarers found 
themselves sufficiently recovered from the rapid 
succession of startling events to begin an excited 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


3*9 


discussion of the affair. The leather case still 
lay on the floor, precisely where Grandin had 
thrown it. Beatrice stooped to pick it up. 
“What do you suppose is in it?” she asked curi¬ 
ously. “It’s quite heavy.” 

“Jewels, perhaps,” guessed Eleanor Perry. 
“Can’t we open it, Miss Martha?” 

“No, my dear. We must leave it, as it is, until 
Cecil comes. Did I understand you to say, Bea¬ 
trice, that you happened upon this safe in the 
wall while you were putting away the books? 
Why did you not inform me of it at once?” Miss 
Martha’s question hinted very strong disap¬ 
proval. 

Beatrice flushed. “I wanted to tell you, but 
I thought I ought not to mention it until I had 
spoken of it to Cecil. I suppose I felt just as 
you feel now about not opening that case until 
Cecil comes back.” 

Patsy turned away her head to hide a smile at 
Bee’s naive defense. Unmistakably she had 
stately Miss Martha to rights. 

Far from being angry, Miss Carroll herself 
was obliged to smile. “I see I am caught in my 
own trap,” she conceded dryly. “Excuse me, my 
dear.” Then turning to Patsy she demanded an 
account of the events that had preceded the dra- 




3 2 ° 


PATSY CARROLL 


matic denouement they had witnessed on enter¬ 
ing the library. Concerning the smuggling of 
Hamlet into the Lodge, Miss Martha was wisely 
silent. He had that night proved himself a price¬ 
less acquisition to her household. What she did 
announce at the conclusion of Patsy’s narrative, 
however, brought dismay to her flock. 

“We will wait until Cecil returns, then we will 
pack our trunks and leave this place,” was her 
decree. “We have had quite enough excitement 
for one summer. I shall never again feel secure 
in the Lodge, and I do not propose to continue 
to live in a house where I am likely to be dis¬ 
turbed in the middle of the night by any such 
villainous person as this Grandin. He may have 
a dozen confederates.” 

“Oh, Auntie,” pleaded Patricia. “He won’t 
come here again. I know he won’t.” Patsy saw 
her cherished plan for a dinner in honor of the 
old hunter snuffed out like a candle, by her 
aunt’s determination to cut short their stay at 
Wilderness Lodge and speedily return to less in¬ 
teresting but safer surroundings. “You know 
you promised we might have one last grand cele¬ 
bration. You wouldn’t go back on your word, 
would you?” 

Patsy’s innocent but artful question had its 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


3 21 


effect upon her aunt. Above all else, Miss Mar¬ 
tha prided herself on keeping her word. 

“If you are so strongly bent on having this 
celebration, Patricia, then you must see to it 
without delay. The moment Cecil returns, I shall 
begin to pack,” was Miss Martha’s dignified con¬ 
cession. “What I said to the maids applies to 
you girls. Go to bed, everyone of you.” 

“Lead on, O noble relative, and we’ll follow,” 
retorted the irrepressible Patsy. “The enemy 
has retired in confusion, therefore we will retire 
in order. But before we wend our way bedward, 
I have one question to ask. Shall I shut Hamlet 
in the kitchen again?” 

“No; let him stay where he is. He has earned 
the right to sleep where he pleases.” This gra¬ 
cious permission showed plainly that from “that 
ungainly beast” Hamlet had risen to glorious 
heights in Miss Martha Carroll’s estimation. 




CHAPTER XXVII 


GOOD-BYE TO WILDERNESS LODGE 

I T was well aften ten o’clock that morning 
when a band of still sleepy Wayfarers re¬ 
paired to the dining room for breakfast. 
Contrary to their expectation, Cecil Vane re¬ 
turned shortly after two o’clock that afternoon, 
accompanied by the old guide. Marshalled by 
Patsy to the library, the two listened to a story 
which caused Cecil to turn pale and Mercutio to 
clench his hands in anger and utter profound 
maledictions against Rupert Grandin. Patsy 
told the tale with dramatic fervor, constantly in¬ 
terrupted by the interpolations of her friends. 

“No, I never knew of that safe,” Cecil re¬ 
sponded in answer to Bee’s eager questions, “but 
I do know what is in this case.” She touched 
with reverent fingers the leather case, which Miss 
Martha had promptly delivered into her keeping. 
“We knew the contents must be valuable,” de- 

322 


AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


323 


dared Patsy. “If they weren’t, Rupert Grandin 
would never have risked coming here for it. He 
said it belonged to him, but-” 

“It doesn’t,” cried Cecil indignantly. “There 
isn’t a word in the will about it. Daddy left 
Rupert one thousand dollars, and nothing more. 
If he had succeeded in getting away with this,” 
she patted the case tenderly, “I should have 

lost- By the way,” she broke off irrelevantly, 

“when are we going to have our celebration?” 

Four expectant faces fell into disappointed 
lines at Cecil’s sudden, provoking change of sub¬ 
ject. Too well-bred to question, the Wayfarers 
had been looking eagerly forward to the moment 
when they should learn from Cecil the contents 
of that black leather case. 

“As soon as we can.” Patsy’s reply sounded 
rather spiritless. It was not the coming festivity 
that now claimed her attention. 

Interpreting correctly her disappointment, 
Cecil smiled. “I know you think I’m awfully 
mean not to tell you what is in this case, but I’ve 
just thought of something splendid. It’s to be 
a nice little surprise for the Wayfarers. If you 
can put off having the party for three days, well 
—you won’t be sorry.” 

Patsy brightened visibly. Cecil’s plea that 





324 


PATSY CARROLL 


they extend their stay, exactly suited her. Prepa¬ 
rations for the party would delay their packing 
for at least two days. That meant they would 
not be ready to start for home until the first of 
the coming week. But Patsy was wise in her own 
generation. Purposely putting on a wistful ex¬ 
pression, yet with an air of resignation, quite 
foreign to her usual impetuosity, she said sweetly, 
“Aunt Martha says we must begin to pack to¬ 
day, Cecil.” 

Miss Martha found it difficult to restrain a 
smile. She was thoroughly acquainted with this 
particular show of implicit obedience on the part 
of her niece. It was far more effective than 
coaxing. She was not so hard-hearted to ignore 
the battery of pleading eyes fastened upon her. 
Besides she was also mildly interested in the sur¬ 
prise which Cecil had planned. At heart she was 
still a girl, with a girl’s capacity for enjoyment. 

“In order to keep up my reputation as a kind 
and loving aunt, I suppose I shall have to allow 
you girls to stay a little longer and have your 
fun,” she remarked with a touch of grim humor. 
“But, remember, the first of next week must find 
us on our way home.” 

“Aunt Martha, you’re a positive peach,” was 
Patsy’s inelegant tribute, as she sprang from the 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


325 


low stool on which she had been sitting and de¬ 
scended upon her aunt with a whirlwind demon¬ 
stration of appreciation. “The Wayfarers will 
chant your praises from the housetop and-” 

“Be arrested for disturbing the peace/’ giggled 
Mabel Perry. 

“Or fall off the roof and be laid up for re¬ 
pairs,” added Bee mischievously. 

“Don’t dampen my joy, Bee,” reproved Patsy. 

“Thank you, Miss Martha.” Cecil’s charming 
smile was indicative of her gratitude. 

Mercutio Macbeth Merrifield had sat listening 
to the Wayfarers, his rugged face expressive of 
the enjoyment that was his when in the company 
of these spirited girls. Now he rose, and regard¬ 
ing his hostesses with kindly good humor, said in 
his deep voice, “Ladies, I regret that I must leave 
you, though I could tarry long in such pleasant 
company and count the time well spent.” 

“Oh, must you go, Mr. Merrifield?” was 
Patsy’s regretful cry, echoed by the others. 
“Don’t forget that you are not going off on any 
expeditions this week. You are to be the guest 
of honor at our dinner.” 

“I ask you, fair lady, is it possible that I should 
forget?” he rumbled, smiling down on Patsy, a 
twinkle of fun in his somber eyes. 




326 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Now I’m sure you won’t,” laughed Patsy. 

The four Wayfarers, accompanied by Cecil, 
escorted the guide, who had taken Hamlet in 
charge again, to the gate of the Lodge, then 
strolled back to the house in the September sun¬ 
shine, full of eager plans for the proposed din¬ 
ner. Cecil left them soon afterward to go to 
the village on a mysterious errand. She laugh¬ 
ingly declined all proffers of company, with a 
tantalizing “Stay at home, little girls, and be 
good, or there won’t be any surprise.” 

“I wonder what she is going to do,” speculated 
Mabel as they watched the girl they had come to 
love so dearly hurry away on her secret errand. 
“She took that case with her.” 

“I am afraid you will have to keep on wonder¬ 
ing,” laughed Bee. “Cecil is a regular Sphinx 
when it comes to black leather cases, contents still 
unknown.” 

“Oh, well, three days isn’t such a long time to 
wait,” was Eleanor’s philosophic comment. 

The next three days, spent in preparation for 
their last merry-making, slipped by with com¬ 
mendable rapidity. The Wayfarers made nu¬ 
merous trips in to the village to purchase suitable 
favors for the occasion, as well as to order certain 
delicacies for the coming feast. They were also 



AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


327 


on the alert for the expressman, and when he 
appeared at Wilderness Lodge on the morning 
of the great day, bearing several good-sized pack¬ 
ages, he was greeted with an acclamation that 
astonished him, and sent away with a gratuity 
that to his much-tried soul was still more 
amazing. 

Dinner had been ordered for five o’clock, but 
long before that time the old guide had arrived, 
accompanied by Hamlet. His position in so¬ 
ciety now assured by Miss Martha, the dog wan¬ 
dered about at will, dividing his attentions be¬ 
tween Cecil and Patsy. Mrs. Parks, Roland and 
Hal arrived soon afterward, and it was a most 
congenial company that gathered for a last good 
time. 

The Wayfarers had put on their prettiest 
gowns to do the old guide honor, and instead of 
a band of woodland maids he found himself in 
the company of a bevy of smartly dressed women. 
Under his bushy eyebrows his dark eyes gleamed 
their approval of the winsome young girls. Life 
in the woods had not deadened his love of the 
beautiful as typified in his daintily dressed host¬ 
esses. Greatly to the Wayfarers secret amuse¬ 
ment and surprise, the actor-guide had for once 
forsaken his picturesque woodsman’s garb and 



3 2 8 


PATSY CARROLL 


had come to the dinner as correctly appareled as 
Roland and Hal. 

“I can’t get used to him in civilized clothes,” 
Patsy had privately complained to Cecil. “I al¬ 
most wish he’d come just as we’ve always seen 
him dressed.” 

“It is the second time I’ve ever seen him dress 
up,” Cecil had whispered. “You ought to feel 
highly honored.” 

The dinner party sat down to the table with 
much merry talk and laughter. All were loud 
in their praises of the decorations, which had been 
attended to by Bee and Patsy behind closed 
doors. Even Miss Martha had not been allowed 
a glimpse of them before hand. The color 
scheme chosen by Patsy was green and white, 
and so far as they were able the girls had tried 
to carry out the idea of the woodland itself on 
the well-appointed table. A tiny potted auro- 
caria, a species of ornamental pine, had been 
placed at each cover, and the center of the table 
looked for all the world like a miniature clump 
of forest trees. Trails of ground pine extended 
to each cover and vases of graceful ferns lent 
reality to the effect. At the old guide’s place 
stood a larger pine, which looked for all the 
world like a little Christmas tree in that it was 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


3 2 9 


laden with small ribbon-bound packages. Elea¬ 
nor Perry, who was already a clever amateur 
artist, had painted the place cards with tiny 
woodland scenes, lettering each name in green 
and gold. Beside each card was a funny little 
favor, supposedly appropriate to each guest. 

“I don’t see how you children ever accom¬ 
plished so much in three days,” declared Miss 
Martha. She was very proud of her girls, and 
her fine face beamed open approbation upon 
them. 

“Oh, we made our plans the minute we came 
back to the Lodge,” was Patsy’s mischievous in¬ 
formation. “I knew you’d let us stay for the 
party.” 

Miss Martha smiled at Mrs. Parks and made 
her famous gesture of resignation. 

“Brave knights and gentle ladies,” boomed 
Mercutio, who hitherto had been apparently 
dumb with amazement at sight of the curiously 
blossoming pine at his place, “I have a confession 
to make. This is my first Christmas tree.” 

“Allow me to wish you a merry September,” 
laughed Patsy. “Now look at your presents. 
You can’t have a single thing to eat until you 
do.” 

“What is mere food in comparison with this?” 



330 


PATSY CARROLL 


murmured the old man. There was a suspicious 
mist in his eyes, as one by one he unwrapped the 
gifts, each bearing the name of the donor. There 
was a tiny morocco volume of Shakespeare’s son¬ 
nets from Beatrice, a four-bladed, pearl-handled 
knife from Eleanor, a fountain pen from Mabel, 
a silver whistle from Cecil and a very beautiful 
matchsafe from Patsy. 

In the presence of these suddenly acquired 
riches the guide forgot his dignity and behaved 
very much like a delighted school boy. “I thank 
you. I thank you,” he repeated over and over 
again. 

“But the worst is yet to come, Mr. Merrifield,” 
announced Patsy, “only it is to be delayed as a 
last grand feature of the spread.” 

Cecil smiled enigmatically. She also was re¬ 
serving something in the nature of a feature. 

After the pleasant excitement of Mercutio’s 
gift-tree had died away, Miss Martha made a 
sign to the maid, who stood attentively waiting 
and highly entertained, to serve dinner. 

It was a perfect and never-to-be-forgotten re¬ 
past, the pleasure of which was to linger in the 
memory of those present long after they had 
gone their separate ways. 

When at last it was ended, Mercutio having 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


33i 


distinguished himself by liberal quotations from 
Shakespeare to which the guests amiably re¬ 
sponded with such fragments of poetry as they 
knew, a little silence fell upon the diners. Patsy 
rose from her chair, her charming face vividly 
alight. 

“Friends and fellow Wayfarers, please excuse 
me. I go, but I shall return.” 

“I beg to be excused also,” smiled Cecil, “but, 
like Patsy, I expect to come back.” 

There was a pleasant interval of suspense, 
broken by snatches of gay repartee as the com¬ 
pany awaited the promised feature. 

When Patsy returned she bore in her hands a 
mysterious package bound with dark green rib¬ 
bon. Walking straight to the guide, she bowed 
profoundly, saying, “Most noble lord of the 
forest, deign to accept this small token of appre¬ 
ciation from your humble and respectful retain¬ 
ers.” Then she shoved the package into Mer- 
cutio’s hands and slipped into her place at his 
left. 

Completely overcome, Mercutio Macbeth Mer- 
rifield for the moment forgot every line of poetry 
he had ever learned. His great fingers actually 
trembled as he fumbled with the broad satin rib¬ 
bon in an effort to untie it. When, urged on by 




332 


PATSY CARROLL 


the merry cries of his friends to open it, he finally 
succeeded in laying bare the token concealed by 
the heavy white paper, he gave a positive gasp 
of wondering appreciation. Before him lay a 
camera, of a certain expensive type for which he 
had sometimes yearned, but never felt privileged 
to buy, for aside from his own simple needs the 
guide’s spare money went to support an invalid 
sister in the West. All this Patricia had pains¬ 
takingly gleaned from him during the camping 
trip. She had accordingly planned the surprise, 
and the camera was the joint gift of the entire 
camping party, the hearty good will of all accom¬ 
panying it. 

It was a red letter night for the old hunter and 
it bound him heart and soul to the Wayfarers 
forever. While they in turn felt the thrill of the 
beatitude, “It is more blessed to give than to 
receive.” 

“You have all had your turn at giving, it’s 
mine now,” announced Cecil. She had returned 
to the table almost as soon as Patsy, the black 
leather case in one hand. 

Mercutio smiled broadly. He alone shared 
Cecil’s secret. Hal, Roland and Mrs. Parks 
looked smilingly curious. But the eyes of Miss 
Martha and the Wayfarers were fastened with 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


333 


absorbed intentness on the black case. At last 
they were to learn its contents. 

“Oh!” An exclamation of wondering admira¬ 
tion broke from Beatrice, who sat next to Cecil 
as the latter threw back the lid. Embedded in 
the satin lining was the most remarkable collec¬ 
tion of cameos Bee had ever dreamed of seeing. 
One especially large, beautiful cameo, which oc¬ 
cupied the center of the case, particularly at¬ 
tracted her attention. Only lately she had read 
a magazine article on these marvelous works of 
art and of the great value and rarity of some of 
them. She now believed she was gazing at a col¬ 
lection seldom equalled. No wonder Rupert 
Grandin had been anxious to secure them. 

“Pass the case along,” directed Cecil. 

Beatrice did so, her eyes following the exquis¬ 
ite things as the case made its round, to the 
accompaniment of admiring cries. 

When it was returned to Cecil’s hands she 
detached one of the cameos from its resting place. 
Bee noted with surprise that it was a pin and not, 
as she had supposed, merely the cameo itself. 
Her amazement deepened when Cecil proffered 
it to her, saying, “You first, Bee. You are 
nearest.” 

“You can’t mean it for me ” she stammered. 




334 


PATSY CARROLL 


But Cecil had alread}^ turned from her and was 
offering another cameo to Mabel. The reckless 
distribution of the rare tokens went steadily on 
until every woman at the table was in possession 
of one. Cecil had had six of the cameos made 
into pins for her friends. 

“There!” exclaimed Cecil triumphantly, amid 
the buzz of inquiry and grateful thanks that 
assailed her. “The mystery of the black leather 
case is a mystery no longer, therefore I’ll pro¬ 
ceed to explain. This collection of cameos be¬ 
longed to my father. Like Daddy Wellington, 
he was a lover of wonderful and rare curios. 
Cameos were his hobby. This one cameo alone,” 
she touched the large, exquisite cameo that had 
aroused Bee’s enthusiasm, “is worth ten thousand 
dollars. It was found with some other jewels in 
a bronze casket, brought to light in a plowed 
field by a peasant in the island of Crete. Later 
the Greek government took over the field, dug it 
up, and revealed the remains of a place which 
must have been a ruin in the days of Homer. 
At least, that was the official report. This cameo, 
as you have have noticed, represents the god 
Apollo, driving his chariot up from the rim of 
the sea, and the carving is said to be one of the 
finest examples of ancient Grecian art.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


335 


Cecil had delivered all this with the rapidity 
of a showman. As a matter of fact she had 
unconsciously memorized it by frequent perusal 
of her father’s written description. “This par¬ 
ticular cameo,” she continued more slowly, “dis¬ 
appeared before it could be placed in a museum 
with the casket and the other things. Then it 
came to light in America in the collection of 
Robertson Davis, that queer old millionaire that 
one is always reading about in the papers. The 
Greek government thought so much of it that 
they protested, Mr. Davis was unable to explain 
his possession of it and at last he had to pay an 
enormous sum to the Greeks to get himself out 
of trouble. He was too obstinate to give up the 
cameo, though that would have saved him a great 
deal of money, but afterward he met Father at 
a dinner and, mentioning this Apollo cameo, said 
it was unlucky and offered to sell it to him for 
five hundred dollars. Naturally Father took the 
eccentric old man up, and so it came into his pos¬ 
session. Later he was offered first eight and 
then ten thousand dollars by another collector, 
but it was so beautiful that Father would not 
part with it. And that is the way that Mr. 
Apollo Charioteer happens to be with us to-night 
—and is also the wherefore of Mr. Rupert Gran- 



336 


PATSY CARROLL 


din’s earnest and reckless desire to acquire this 
little leather case. Part of this,” she added, “I 
learned from Daddy Wellington. The rest I 
read in a paper that was with the cameos. 

“But the others are also rare. My father 
hunted the world over for them. The collection 
is worth at least fifty thousand dollars. When 
Father died he left it in trust with Daddy Wel¬ 
lington for me. For years it was in a safety 
deposit vault. When we came to Wilderness 
Lodge to live Daddy had begun to forget things. 
Once he tried to tell me something about the 
cameos, but he suddenly forgot what it was he 
wished to tell me. He must have brought the 
cameos here and put them in the secret safe. 
After he died, I learned that Daddy had re¬ 
moved them from the vault. I told Rupert about 
them, but he only laughed at me and said I had 
made up a story merely to make him trouble. I 
always thought he took them, until the other 
night when, thanks to you girls, he missed get¬ 
ting them.” 

“It is evident that the Wayfarers have been 
holding secret sessions,” accused Hal. “Aren’t 
you going to tell us what it’s all about?” 

“Yes, you are privileged to hear the tale of 
the latest adventure of that infallible body of 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


337 


investigators known as the Wayfarers,” nodded 
Cecil. She thereupon held forth with an account 
of it. 

“Can you beat it?” was Hal’s astounded ques¬ 
tion at the end of Cecil’s vivid narration. 

“I cannot,” agreed Roland. “The best that I 
can do is to congratulate myself on being a cousin 
of the illustrious Patsy Carroll.” 

“We are lucky to be able to claim friendship 
with her,” added Mrs. Parks, “and Bee, too.” 

These affectionate commendations started a 
round of hero worship of which Patsy and Bea¬ 
trice were the center. 

“You are all the dearest people in the world,” 
was Patsy’s earnest response to their praise. She 
could think of nothing better to say that would 
voice her regard for those who seemed so deter¬ 
mined to make capital over what she had done 
merely on the spur of impulse. “I feel as though 
I’d like to go on living up here in this beautiful 
land all the rest of my days. But there’s just 
one thing about it, since we must leave it so soon 
we must promise never to forget one another 
and some day we must get together again and 
go on another camping expedition. And next 
time,” she turned a saucy face to her aunt, “Miss 
Martha Carroll shall go along as our mascot. 





33® 


PATSY CARROLL 


Then we’ll be very sure not to lose our way or 
tumble down mountain sides.” 

“I may as well admit that I don’t intend to 
miss the next expedition—when it takes place,” 
was Miss Carroll’s calm response. 

“But next time you come to Wilderness Lodge 
it will be as my guests. You’ve a lifetime lease 
on my heart. All I have is yours for the taking, 
and my latch string will always be out for the 
Wayfarers.” 

“Then you may be sure we shall take advan¬ 
tage of that lease not later than next summer,” 
was Patsy’s fond reply. “We will have a glori¬ 
ous reunion, then we’ll break a new trail into 
the forest with Mr. Merrifield as chief pioneer. 
Won’t we, Mr. Merrifield?” Naughty Patsy had 
slyly observed signs of a desire to burst into verse 
on the part of the old guide. 

For answer Mercutio rose majestically. 
Spreading his arms above his miniature gift-tree 
as though to invoke a blessing upon it, he rumbled 
sonorously: 

“True friendship heeds not time or years; 

It stands forever, undismayed; 

As a green tree it staunchly rears 
Its head to Heaven, unafraid.” 




AT WILDERNESS LODGE 


339 


A sweet silence pervaded the company as the 
old guide finished. 

It was Bee who broke it. “I am sure our tree 
of friendship will always stay green/’ she said 
softly. “As loyal Wayfarers, it is our duty to 
see that it doesn’t languish.” 

“It seems to have reached an amazing growth 
in one short summer.” Mrs. Parks glanced 
affectionately about the little circle of bright 
faces which were turned so hopefully to the 
future. “Now that the Wayfarers have estab¬ 
lished themselves there is no telling where they 
will leave off.” 

“It is a long time until next summer,” mourned 
Patsy. Then she brightened. “Perhaps some¬ 
thing will happen before then to bring us to¬ 
gether again. Who knows?” 

If little Patsy Carroll could have looked into 
the future she might have indeed seen stirring 
days ahead for the Wayfarers. They were des¬ 
tined to pass these days in a far-off, sunny land, 
and under circumstances as interesting as those 
which had made their stay in the Adirondacks so 
memorable. In “Patsy Carroll Under Southern 
Skies,” the second volume of this series, the Way¬ 
farers found themselves the center of a mystery 
even more baffling than finding the whereabouts 



340 


PATSY CARROLL 


of a missing will. What happened to them dur¬ 
ing an Easter vacation in the sunny South forms 
a story that no wide-awake girl can afford to miss 
reading. 








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